UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA    SAN  D  fcbO 


3  1822  00718  5671 


f; 


y*'VERs/rv 


fAU 


F.OPHt 


A.  S*N 


°/EGO 


Central  University  Library 

University  of  California,  San  Diego 
Note:  This  item  is  subject  to  recall  after  two  weeks. 

Date  Due 


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i.t 


1 

AUG  2^  RECO 

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CI  39  (1/91) 


UCSD  l  ib 


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THE 


Catfjctoral  Colons 


AND    INTERVENING   PLACES    OF 


ffl 


NGLAND 


mm 


RELAND, 


COTLAND: 


A  DESCRIPTION  OF  CITIES,  CATHEDRALS,  LAKES,  MOUNTAINS, 
RUINS,  AND    WATERING-PLACES. 


BY 

THOMAS    W.    SILLOWAV 

AND 

LEE    L.    POWERS. 


"  A  dwarf  standing  on  the  shoulders  of  a  giant  may  see  farther  than 
the  giant  himself."  — Didimcs  Stella. 


BOSTON: 

1'  I'  I.  KS      \  \  I)     II  I    l 
:M  Botu  po*  Stbbei 

1887. 


Copyright  188>  <'. 
By  A.  Williams  and  Company. 


THIRD    EDITION. 


University  Pm 
TmiN  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


TO 
LUTHER   GARDNER    ROBBINS, 

THE   GOOD   COMPANION   AND   FRIEND  OF   ONE  OF  THE  AUTHORS 

FOR     MORE    THAN     A    QUARTER     OF    A     CENTURY, 

AND  OF  THE  OTHER   FOR   SOME  YEARS, 

Wc\\z  lTolumc 

IS   AFFECTIONATELY   INSCRIBED  AS  A   SMALL  TOKEN 
OF  REGARD   AND  ESTEEM. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


The  Authors,  having  travelled  somewhat  leisurely  over  im- 
portant parts  of  Ireland  and  Scotland,  and  in  a  yet  more 
deliberate  and  critical  manner  over  the  principal  parts  of  Eng- 
land, —  observing  not  only  salient  points  in  the  life  of  each 
country,  but  at  the  same  time  passing  in  review  their  history  and 
work,  —  and  believing  that  a  synopsis  of  what  their  New  England 
eyes,  ears,  and  minds  saw,  heard,  and  discovered,  would  be 
acceptable  to  the  public,  one  of  them  prepared  a  series  of  articles 
which  were  published  in  one  of  the  weekly  papers  of  Boston. 
The  interest  awakened,  and  a  belief  that  these  reminiscences 
should  be  put  into  a  more  permanent  form,  have  inclined  the 
authors  to  amend  the  articles  as  the  case  seemed  to  demand, 
and  they  are  thus  presented  in  this  volume. 

When  the  original  papers  were  prepared,  a  departure  from  the 
usual  custom  of  writers  on  travel  was  made.  Instead  of  simply 
recording  personal  observations,  the  labor  was  extended  by  the 
incorporation  of  historic  and  biographic  facts,  the  authors  hop- 
ing that,  while  their  work  would  be  valuable  and  interesting  as 
a  compend  to  those  familiar  with  the  facts,  it  would  also  be 
entertaining  and  instructive  to  that  large  class,  in  all  commu- 
nities, who  are  without  the  means  of  obtaining  such  information. 
Care  was  therefore  exercised  to  obtain  data  verified  by  the 
testimony  of  various  authors. 


VI  INTRODUCTORY. 

The  articles  having  been  published  in  narrative  style,  it  has 
been  thought  well  to  present  them  again  in  that  fonn  ;  and  the 
authors  wish  to  say  by  way  of  apology,  if  one  be  needed,  that 
the  opinions  and  criticisms  expressed  are  such  as  impressed 
their  own  minds,  and  are  not  reflections  of  the  minds  of  others. 
With  this  explanation,  and  craving  the  indulgence  and  patience 
of  the  reader,  they  send  forth  their  volume. 


CONTENTS. 


Erelanto. 

Chapter  Page 

I.     New  York  to  Queenstown,  Cork 3 

II.     Blarney,  Killarney,  the  Lakes iS 

III.  Muckross  Abbey,  Limerick,  Dublin     ....  36 

IV.  YYaterford,  Carrick-on-Suir,  Kilkenny,  Dub- 

lin  AGAIN         57 

IBnglanto. 

V.     Liverpool,  Chester,   Shrewsbury,  Worcester, 

Hereford 75 

VI.     Gloucester,  Bristol,  Bath,  Salisbury,  Sarum, 

Amesbury,  Stonehenge,  Wilton 95 

VII.     Bemerton,  Winchester,  Reading,  Newbury    .     114 

VIII.     London 129 

IX.     Oxford 161 

X.  Warwick,  Stratford-on-Avon,  Leamington, 
Kenilworth,  Coventry,  Birmingham,  Lich- 
field      n>7 

XL    Stoke-u pon-Trent,    Staffordshire,    Manches- 
ter, 1  1  1  1.     <  Carlisle 1S7 


viii  CONTENTS. 

Scotland. 

Chapter  Page 

XII.     Glasgow,     Rob-Roy    Country,    the    Lakes, 

Callender,  Stirling 199 

XIII.  Stirling  Castle,  Edinburgh 212 

XIV.  Melrose,  Abbotsford 233 

iSnglantJ. 

XV.     Newcastle-on-Tyne,  Durham 243 

XVI.     Yorkshire,  York,  Sheffield,  Lincoln    .     .     .  253 

XVII.     Boston,  Peterboro,  Lynn 270 

XVIII.    Wells,  Norwich,  Ely 282 

XIX.     Cambridge 295 

XX.     London,  Windsor,  Stoke  Poges 3'5 

XXI.     London,       Hampton       Court,      Rochester, 

Chatham,    Canterbury       328 

XXII.     Dover,  Brighton,  Calais 343 


IRELAND. 


CATHEDRAL    TOWNS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

NEW  YORK  TO  QUEENSTOWN  —  CORK. 

ON  Saturday  the  12th  day  .of  April,  1878,  at  half-past  3 
p.  m.,  the  good  Inman  steamer  City  of  Richmond,  with 
us  on  board,  loosed  her  cables,  and  the  floating  palace 
moved  out  into  North  River  majestically,  —  as  only  such  vessels 
can  move,  —  passed  the  forts,  and  sailed  on,  till  at  dusk,  yet 
before  dark,  the  Highlands  of  Neversink  —  a  misnomer  to  us 
then  —  retired  from  view,  and,  Byron-like,  we  felt  and  said, 

"  My  native  land,  good-night." 

Suppered,  and  enjoyed  the  look  of  that  waste  of  sky  and 
waters  till  ten  o'clock,  and  then  consigned  ourselves  to  the  em- 
brace of 

"  Tired  nature's  sweet  restorer,  balmy  sleep." 

The  morrow  was  Sunday.  We  were  up  betimes,  and  on  deck 
for  new  views,  fresh  air,  and  to  see  how  things  compared  with 
those  of  last  night.  All  was  well,  —  comparatively  smooth  sea, 
and  good  breeze.  We  had  sailed  224  miles,  and  so  were  that 
much  from  home.  Breakfasted,  and  on  deck  again,  —  this  time 
Dearly  all  our  cabin  passengers,  about  one  hundred  com- 
plete. They  appeared  well,  and  we  thought  our  lot  had  been 
cast  in  a  pleasant  place  ;  and  so  it  proved.  There  were  conspic- 
uous the  essentials  <>i  comfort  lor  the  voyage,  —  among  them 
inclined-back,  cane-finished  lounging-chairs,  and  good  blanket 
by  providential  people  who  had  travelled  before, 
or  who  had  friends  who  had  journeyed  and  in  whose  advice  they 
had  confidence.     No  matter  if  it  be  July  or  Augu  1,  it  is  a  good 


4  ON    THE    ATLANTIC. 

friend  who  effectually  advises  one  to  carry  a  great  coat,  shawl, 
or  blanket  rube. 

The  sun  shone  bright,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  City  of  Rich- 
mond were  happy.  At  10  a.  M.  came  the  roll-call  of  sailors  and 
table-waiters,  arranged  in  squads  at  special  points.  An  officer 
and  the  captain  [K^sed  in  front,  the  name  of  each  was  distinctly 
called,  the  old,  old  response,  Here,  passed  along  the  line,  and  the 
work  was  done.  Of  course  a  large  part  of  the  passengers  were 
near  by,  inspecting,  and  they  were  presuming  enough  to  think 
all  was  going  on  right,  and  the  work  well  done. 

Next  came  an  officer  giving  information  that  divine  service 
was  to  be  held  in  the  cabin  at  1 1  a.  m.,  and  inviting  singers  to 
be  at  a  certain  location.  One  of  our  party,  having  before  tried 
the  ship's  piano,  was  installed  as  pianist.  At  the  hour  ap- 
pointed, nearly  all  on  board,  including  the  sailors,  had  assembled, 
and  it  seemed  very  like  a  church  meeting.  The  pulpit  was  a 
desk  placed  on  a  common  table,  covered  with  a  cloth ;  a  Bible 
and  prayer-book  were  on  it,  and  our  captain  officiated,  —  a  man 
of  fine  physique,  apparently  about  sixty  years  old,  and,  but  for 
the  absence  of  clerical  robes,  very  bishop-like  in  appearance. 
He  went  finely  through  the  service  of  the  Church  of  England, 
employing  about  an  hour,  and  concluded  by  saying  :  "  I  am 
now  to  preach  my  usual  sermon,  which  is  to  take  up  a  collection 
for  the  widows  and  orphans  of  sailors."  A  good  charity,  —  and 
a  befitting  response  was  made. 

At  one  o'clock,  dinner ;  next,  various  methods  of  using  the  time, 
the  principal  of  which  was  reading  or  lounging  about  decks. 

Soon  came  a  change  in  conditions.  Wind  breezed  up  and 
we  had  more  than  a  fifteen-mile  power  ;  and  so  sails  were  in 
order  —  our  first  sight  of  operations  of  the  kind.  Next  came 
white-capped  waves  ;  and  at  5  p.  m.  had  come  those  indescribably 
hateful  movements  of  the  ship,  that  many  a  one  has  felt  before,  — 
down  first  at  bow,  and  next  up  at  stern,  and  vice  versa  continu- 
ing. "  Confound,"  said  they  of  the  physically  weakening  brig- 
ade, "  the  deliberation,  yet  fearful  determination  and  success 
with  which  these  movements  are  made,"  —  as  though  transform- 
ing us  first  into  lead  and  then  into  feathers  ;  and  soon  follows 
an  aggravating  roll,  playing  with  us  as  though  we  were  alternately 
puff-balls  and  cannon-shot.  But  neither  waves  nor  ship  were  to 
be  confounded  to  accommodate  us.  Instead,  both  ship  and  sea 
appeared  to  be  in  league  with  the  old-fashioned  adversary.  It 
seemed,  to  the  subjugated  ones,  as  though  his  Satanic  Majesty 
was  down  under  the  propellers,  with  a  mighty  power  straighten- 


NEW    YORK    TO    QUEENSTOWN.  5 

ing  himself  up,  and  lifting  as  only  he  could  do  ;  and  then,  as  aid, 
there  appeared  to  be  an  imp  scarcely  less  powerful,  pulling  down 
at  the  bow,  and  in  addition,  many  a  fellow  of  like  nature  under 
each  side  of  the  ship,  lifting  up  and  letting  go  alternately.  What 
masters  of  the  art !     How  easily  they  did  it ! 

Disgusted  with  the  company  and  their  doings,  one  after  the 
other  of  our  associates  paid  tribute  to  whom  tribute  was  due ; 
and  what  was  left  of  our  disgusted  organisms  went  below  as 
best  they  could.  And  here  the  curtain  drops ;  for,  though  the 
spirit  was  willing,  the  flesh  was  weak. 

It  is  6  p.  m.,  Sunday.  We  were  told  that  the  winds  increased 
to  a  gale  ;  rain,  snow-squalls  and  hail  came  into  the  fray.  The 
vessel  staggered ;  the  stanch  bulwarks  were  but  a  partial  barrier 
to  that  fury-lashed  sea ;  and  the  decks  were  often  swept  with 
the  newest  of  new  brooms. 

Next  in  our  record  is  Friday  p.  M.  Fair  weather.  Ship  has 
come  out  ahead.  Imps  and  their  master  are  defeated  and  gone  ; 
the  decks,  as  by  talismanic  transformation,  are  peopled  again  with 
the  old  brigade  ;  and  then  for  hours  is  in  order  a  statement  of 
what  each  has  done  and  has  not  done.  Well,  the  history  of  one 
lot  of  mortals,  conditioned  thus,  is  that  of  all. 

It  is  a  question  often  arising  with  people  who  have  never  been 
to  sea,  how  passengers  manage  to  occupy  their  time  and  break 
up  the  monotony  of  the  passage.  On  a  long  voyage,  days  and 
hours  doubtless  move  sluggishly,  but  on  a  simple  passage  to 
England  this  is  not  so.  A  thousand  things,  that  on  land  would 
be  of  no  account,  on  shipboard  attract  attention  and  please. 
"  Men  are  but  children  of  a  larger  growth,"  and  there  are  play- 
things in  abundance.  There  's  a  discount  on  reserve,  and  at 
sea  a  general  freedom  in  conversation  obtains  ;  aristocracy  is 
at  a  discount,  and  democracy  at  a  premium.  Reading,  lolling 
around  in  a  delightfully  don't-care  sort  of  a  way,  are  done  in 
firsts  lass  manner;  smoking,  cards,  and  checkers  occupy  some, 
while  others  arc  busy  lookers-on.  Talking  things  over,  —  poli- 
ience,  and  a  large  amount  of  nothing  in  particu- 
lar ;  promenading;  watching  steamers  and  sailing  vessels;  ob- 
serving schools  of  fish,  or  single  ones,  ocean  currents,  peculiar 
clouds,  and  work  the  sailors  are  doing;  eating  four  meals,  or 
eating  none,  but  instead  hating  the  thought  of  ton  reasing  i 
self,  —  these  and  like  things  fill  the  eight  or  ten  days.  And  so  we 
entertained  and  employed  to  the  journey's  end, — greatly 
ted  in  thi  the  hi  ad  oi  the  <  ompanion  way,  whh  h 

•  :i  daily  had   marked   upon   it  a  distinct  line   showing  the 


6  IRELAND. 

direction  and  extent  of  sea  passed  over  the  preceding  twenty-four 
hours. 

So  our  voyage  continued  till  the  next  Sunday,  at  6  p.  m.,  when 
the  monotony  was  broken  by  one  of  the  officers  confiden- 
tially saying  he  thought  he  saw  land.  Of  all  intelligence  to  a 
tourist  this  is  most  welcome.  One  of  the  passengers  —  name- 
less here  —  looked  to  the  left  far  ahead,  and  really  saw  what  the 
officers  did ;  but  to  his  less  disciplined  or  sea-educated  eyes  it 
appeared  to  be  a  ship,  and  so  he  declared ;  but  in  a  half-hour 
more  sounded  from  stem  to  stern  the  intelligence  of  discovered 
land,  and  then  the  fancied  ship  had  been  transformed  into  a 
dim-appearing,  small  mountain.  It  was  the  Skellig  Rocks,  the 
first-seen  land  of  Ireland,  fifty  miles  from  Cape  Clear.  Passing 
on  came  to  view  Dursey  Island,  with  its  Bull,  Cow,  and  Calf 
rocks,  and  then  —  alas  for  us  waiters  and  watchers  !  —  night 
came  and  we  must  forbear. 

At  4  o'clock  a.  m.  on  that  fine  Easter  Monday  morning,  April 
21,  a  good  company  on  deck  saw  plainly  on  the  left,  and  not  far 
away,  the  veritable  land.  There  lay  in  the  distance  the  old 
mountains  of  Munster,  and  Fastnet  Rock,  a  pyramidal  formation 
standing  majestic  in  the  water  five  miles  or  so  out  from  the  high, 
dark,  rocky  coast.  Next  a  lighthouse  came  into  view,  desolate 
but  surrounded  by  an  indescribable  beauty. 

Soon  we  pass  into  George's  Channel.  The  land  is  treeless, 
but  clothed  with  elegant  verdure.  The  surf  beats  wildly  and 
unhindered  against  its  rocky  ramparts.  Here  and  there,  nest- 
ling cosily  on  the  hillsides,  are  small  Irish  cabins,  one-story 
high,  built  of  stone,  plastered  and  whitewashed,  having  thatched 
roofs,  a  few  small  windows,  and  a  single  door.  Next  appear  a 
few  Martello  Towers  of  stone,  some  twenty-five  feet  in  diameter, 
and  perhaps  forty  feet  high,  —  designed  as  fortresses,  having 
formerly,  if  not  at  present,  cannon  on  their  level,  and,  it  may  be, 
revolving  tops.  And  now  appear  fresh  evidences  of  civilization,  in 
the  fishing-boats  with  tan-colored  sails  \  and  next  we  arrive  at  a 
little  hamlet,  Crooked  Haven,  the  seat  of  the  telegraph  to 
Queenstown.  We  next  pass  Kinsale  Head  ;  in  less  than  an 
hour  more  Daunt's  Rock,  with  its  bell-buoy  ;  and  after  that  a 
sail  of  five  miles  carries  us  to  the  opening  into  Queenstown 
Harbor,  and  we  are  at  the  end  of  the  voyage. 

It  is  now  5  o'clock  a.  m.  Our  ship  for  the  first  time  in  eight 
days  shuts  off  steam  ;  her  pace  slackens  ;  and  —  as  though  while 
not  tired,  yet  willing  to  rest  —  she  floats  leisurely.  How  majestic 
and  calm  !     The  small  "  tender  "  steamer  is  alongside,  and  now 


QUEENSTOWN.  7 

what  scenes  begin  !  How  others  retire  before  the  hurry,  the 
bustle,  the  good-nature  everywhere  manifest.  A  veritable 
"  Paradise  Regained."  No  matter  for  corns  trodden  upon,  nor 
lack  of  respect  for  dignity  or  age.  Every  one  destined  for  a 
landing  minds  his  own  business.  Never  was  work  of  the  kind 
done  better.  All  the  Queenstown  passengers  on  board,  the 
tender  starts  for  the  desired  haven. 

The  City  of  Richmond  starts  her  machinery,  and  is  soon  lost 
to  view  on  her  journey  of  eighteen  hours  to  Liverpool ;  but  we  on 
board  the  small  steamer  are  full  of  admiration  for  the  new  sights 
and  sounds.  Have  just  passed  through  the  great  opening  two 
miles  across,  and  one  mile  deep  or  through,  and  so  are  inside 
the  harbor  lines.  In  passing,  on  our  left  were  high,  verdant  hills. 
On  the  right  were  higher  hills,  crowned  with  a  few  chalk-white 
buildings,  —  the  lighthouse  and  its  keeper's  dwelling,  the  grounds 
enclosed  with  a  wall,  white  like  the  buildings,  resembling  fairy- 
work  in  that  setting  of  emerald.  And  now  has  opened  an  ex- 
panse of  great  extent  and  rare  beauty.  "  No  finer  harbor  in  the 
world  can  there  be,"  think  and  ejaculate  all,  at  that  early  day, 
when  few  if  any  of  the  party  have  travelled ;  and  "  No  finer  in 
the  world  is  there,"  say  we  now,  when  we  have  gone  a  good  part 
of  the  world  over. 

To  the  right,  encircling  and  on  a  magnificent  scale,  stretch  the 
green  hills  on  a  curved  line,  half  enclosing  a  basin  five  miles  long 
and  three  wide.  As  before  named  the  hills  are  grandly  verdant, 
and  dotted  over  here  and  there  with  single  stone  shanties,  as 
white  as  snow.  Scattered  about  promiscuously  in  profusion  is  the 
Furze  —  a  shrub  from  two  to  six  feet  high,  in  general  appearance 
not  unlike  our  savin  —  in  full  bloom,  with  a  profusion  of  chrome- 
yellow  blossoms,  fragrant  and  like  the  odor  of  a  ripe  peach.  A 
few  groves  intermingle,  and  thus  a  finished  look  is  given,  inclin- 
ing the  beholder  to  call  all  perfect  and  needing  no  change.  To 
the  left  is  a  scene  more  broken  in  outline  and  less  elevated  and 
extended.  There  is  a  sublime  repose  and  feminine  beauty 
to  the  right  and  around  the  shore  to  the  town  ;  but  on  the 
left  is  a  masculine  effect,  and  a  sort  of  vigorous  business  air 
obtains.  In  the  foreground  of  this  side  of  the  harbor,  and  not 
far  from  the  shore,  an-  three  islands,  on  which  are  the  barracks, 
the  penitentiary  for  eight  hundred  convicts,  and  the  naval  store- 
i,  four  or  five  stories  high.  These  are  modern  and 
appropriate-looking  stone  edifices,  built,  as  all  such  establish 
ments  are,  "regardless  of  expense."  In  front  of  the  openi 
the  harbor,  and  two  miles  away,  lies  the  town   itself,  containing 


3  IRELAND. 

10,039  inhabitants,  and  till  1849  called  the  Cove  of  Cork.  In 
that  year,  in  commemoration  of  a  visit  of  Queen  Victoria,  it 
took  the  name  of  Queenstowu. 

We  are  for  the  first  time  inside  a  harbor  of  the  land  of 
the  shamrock,  and  beholding  the  soil  of  the  Emerald  Isle.  Only 
one  who  has  sailed  and  waited  and,  Columbus-like,  watched  the 
approach  to  land,  and  has  read  and  thought  well  about  the  Old 
Country,  can  know  the  feelings  that  fill  the  breast  of  one  about  to 
land.  This  pleasant  anticipation  is  here,  for  fancy  resolves  itself 
into  reality  and  fact.  He  is  about  to  "  know  how  it  is  himself," 
and  as  no  one  can  know  it  for  him. 

The  town  lay  stretched  out  in  front,  right  and  left,  rising  by 
abrupt  terraces  or  cross  streets  —  parallel  to  the  water  —  to  a 
great  height,  with  a  few  streets  leading  upward.  The  wharves 
are  of  wood  ;  and  these,  which  partake  largely  of  the  nature  of  a 
quay  along  the  line  of  the  water,  are  old  and  more  or  less  de- 
cayed in  appearance,  as  are  many  of  the  buildings  in  the  vicinity. 
The  houses  to  the  right  of  our  landing  and  along  the  shore,  and 
continuing  up  quite  a  distance  on  the  hill,  are  of  the  usual 
stone  construction,  being  mostly  one  or  two  stories  high.  The 
streets  are  very  narrow,  and  far  from  being  cleanly  kept.  The 
rear  yards  of  the  houses,  as  they  back  up  against  the  hill,  are 
very  small ;  and  as  one  walks  through  an  elevated  street,  and 
looks  down  into  these  contracted  and  filthy  back-yards  and  on 
the  roofs  of  the  houses,  he  is  led  to  pity  the  occupants, 
for  there  is  presented  the  evidence  of  poverty  and  wretched- 
ness. To  the  left  of  the  landing,  and  above  this  portion  of 
the  town,  is  a  better  population  and  condition.  The  principal 
avenue  and  business  portion  of  the  place  is  at  hand.  A  wide, 
clean,  and  properly  built  thoroughfare,  used  more  or  less  as  a 
market-place  and  stand  for  teams,  stretches  for  a  fourth  of  a 
mile,  with  stores  of  fair  capacity  and  good  variety,  and  a  few  are 
of  more  than  average  style.  The  buildings  are  nearly  all  of 
stone,  light  in  color,  and  three  or  four  stories  high. 

From  the  nature  of  the  land,  and  intermingled  as  the  build- 
ings above  the  main  street  are  with  gardens  and  trees,  a  pictur- 
esque appearance  is  presented  ;  and  the  view  of  the  great  basin 
or  harbor,  from  these  elevated  streets  is  indescribably  grand. 
The  streets  here,  and  especially  the  continuing  roads,  are  well 
macadamized  and  clean. 

At  the  centre  of  the  town  a  large  and  elegant  Roman  Catholic 
Cathedral,  built  of  dark  limestone  and  in  the  decorated  Gothic 
style  of  architecture,  is  about  finished. 


QUEENSTOWN.  9 

One  peculiarity  of  the  place  is  a  lack  of  fruit-trees  in  the 
gardens.  The  common  dark-leaved  ivy  abounds,  and  is  found 
growing  wild  on  road- walls,  and  along  the  roadsides  in  profusion. 
As  a  front-yard  or  lawn  shrub,  fuchsias,  such  as  are  raised  in 
America  in  pots,  are  common,  and  often  in  large  clumps  like  our 
elder,  six  or  eight  feet  high. 

Another  peculiarity  is  an  absence  of  clothes-lines.  Instead,  the 
practice  prevails  of  spreading  newly  washed  clothes  on  the  grass, 
with  small  stones  to  keep  them  from  being  blown  away. 

Another  thing  of  interest  is  the  common  and  general  use  of 
diminutive  donkeys  to  draw  small  carts,  used  by  boys  and  girls, 
from  eight  to  sixteen  years  old,  for  common  porterage.  They 
are  also  used  for  milk-wagons.  Each  wagon  has  an  oaken  tank, 
holding  about  half  a  barrel ;  straight-sided,  larger  at  the  bottom 
than  at  the  top,  having  a  cover  and  padlock ;  the  measure 
hanging  on  one  side.  There  is  straw  behind,  and  at  the  front 
end  the  boy  or  girl  is  driving.  These  donkeys  are  usually  of  a 
cream-color  or  gray.  All  are  cheap  and  coarse-looking,  and  a 
majority  of  them  are  aged,  with  their  hair  two  thirds  worn  off. 
They  are  the  very  personification  of  good-nature,  and  do  their 
work  well.  So  far  as  value  is  concerned  they  are  "  worth  their 
weight  in  gold,"  but  they  cost,  when  in  best  condition,  not  more 
than  ten  dollars  each.  Witnessing  their  patience,  the  great  ser- 
vices they  render,  and  the  small  amount  of  recompense  they 
have  while  living,  we  incline  to  the  opinion  that,  as  a  result  of  the 
working  of  the  laws  of  cause  and  effect,  there  may  be  expected 
for  them  good  conditions  in  their  Hereafter.  They  are  angels 
in  disguise,  and  we  wish  they  were  in  use  in  America  as  com- 
monly as  they  are  here. 

Other  objects  that  attracted  attention  were  the  public  wells 
built  in  especial  parts  of  the  town.  They  are  enclosed  springs 
of  water,  or  it  may  be  reservoirs  supplied  by  pipes  ;  the  places 
are  from  six  to  ten  feet  square,  and  only  a  few  feet  deep,  a 
descent  to  which  is  made  by  stone  steps  into  the  small,  stone- 
covered  rooms.  The  people  using  them  for  the  most  part  carry 
tin-  water  to  their  houses  in  earthen  jars  holding  two  or  three 
gallons  tax  h.  The  water  i*-,  carried  by  girls  and  women,  seldom  by 
boys  and  men  ;  at  least  we  could  see  none  engaged  in  the  service. 

As  maybe  imagined,  considering  the  filthy  nature  of  s e  of 

the  people  who  thus  obtain  the  water,  it  is  Decessary  to  have  a 
rd  declaring  the  enforcement  of  law  on  any  one  who  dips 

a  dirty  or  questionable  article  into  one  of  the  wells,  or  interferes 
with  tile  purity  of  the  water. 


10  IRELAND. 

Signs  render  a  large  service  in  the  place,  and  some  of  them 
make  queer  statements,  —  at  least  so  they  appear  to  Americans. 
For  instance,  one  reads  : 

Here  Margaret  Ahearn  is  Licensed  to  sell  Tobacco. 

The  street  letter-boxes  had  this  inscription  : 

Cleared  at  8  a.  m.  and  6  p.  m.,  and  on  Sundays 

at  5    P.M. 

At  2  p.  m.  this  same  day  with  some  reluctance  we  left  what 
was  to  us  a  place  of  interest,  and  took  the  nice  little  black- 
painted  steamer  Erin,  for  a  sail  from  this  Lower  Harbor  of 
Cork,  as  it  formerly  was  called,  to  the  city  itself. 

The  journey,  covering  a  distance  of  eleven  miles,  may  be 
made  by  rail  or  steamer.  The  wise,  pleasure-seeking  tourist 
goes  by  river.  On  board  the  little  steamer,  having  paid  a  shil- 
ling (twenty-four  cents)  for  the  passage,  valises  at  our  side, — 
and  that  is  all  of  our  baggage,  or  as  we  ought  now,  being  in 
foreign  lands,  to  term  it,  luggage, — we  take  our  last  admiring 
look  at  this  queen  of  harbors,  and  with  inexpressible  reluctance 
bid  adieu  to  its  beautiful  scenery,  submitting  to  our  fate  in 
anticipation  of  another  visit,  as  the  steamer  that  takes  us  to 
America  will  be  here  for  a  day  to  receive  the  mails.  We  steam 
to  the  left  end  of  the  basin,  and,  rounding  to  the  right,  pass  into 
the  lovely  River  Lee,  —  an  extremely  picturesque  stream  aver- 
aging here  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  width. 

The  weather  is  cool,  but  pleasant  for  the  season.  Vegetation 
in  certain  respects  is  three  or  four  weeks  in  advance  of  that 
about  Boston.  This  applies  to  grass,  lilacs  and  shrubs  of  the 
kind,  and  spring  flowers  ;  but  garden  vegetables,  from  planted 
seeds,  are  not  at  all  in  advance.  In  fact,  up  to  this  time,  April 
22,  little  planting  has  been  done.  The  atmosphere  of  the  south- 
ern parts  of  Ireland  and  of  England  being  very  damp,  and  the 
entire  winter  mild,  certain  kinds  of  vegetation  advance  ;  but 
cultivated  work  has  no  especial  advantage  over  New  England, 
where  the  first  fruits  of  the  gardener's  labor  are  gathered  as 
early  as  in  those  islands. 

But  to  return  from  our  digression,  we  proceed  on  our  short 
voyage  to  Cork,  and  are  now  on  our  passage  up  the  River 
Lee.  The  scenery  on  the  right  bank,  on  the  Queenstown  side, 
is  somewhat  hilly  and  of  pleasing  aspect,  though  not  especially 
striking  or  unusual ;  but  that  of  the  opposite  shore  is  elegant 


CORK.  11 

and  picturesque  in  the  extreme.  About  a  mile  from  the  mouth 
of  the  river  is  the  beautiful  village  of  Monkstown,  a  semi-watering- 
place,  having  tourists'  hotels  and  a  castle.  Monkstown  Castle 
is  in  ruins,  having  been  built  in  the  year  1636.  It  is  related 
that  Anastatia  Goold,  a  woman  of  masculine  qualities,  during  the 
absence  of  her  husband  in  Spain,  conceived  the  idea  of  building 
this  as  a  family  mansion,  and  to  pay  for  it,  hit  upon  the  scheme 
of  supplying  her  workmen  with  their  family  stores.  She  pur- 
chased them  at  wholesale,  and  retailed  them  at  a  profit  which 
paid  the  entire  cost  of  the  castle,  with  the  exception  of  a  single 
groat  (eight  cents  of  our  money). 

The  river  above  this  widens  into  a  small  lake,  and  is  called 
Loch  Mahon.  Three  and  a  half  miles  farther  up  we  arrive  at 
the  smart  little  village  of  Glenbrook  ;  and  one  and  a  half  miles 
farther,  we  come  to  another  pretty  town,  called  Passage. 

Soon  appears  Blackrock,  a  small  promontory,  on  which  is  a 
structure  suggesting  an  ancient  castle,  built  on  a  tongue  of  land 
extending  into  the  clear  water  of  the  river.  The  mansion,  how- 
ever, is  old  only  in  style  and  outline,  for  it  is  of  modern  con- 
struction. Blackrock  is  supposed  to  be  the  place  from  which 
William  Penn,  the  founder  of  Pennsylvania,  set  sail,  a.  d.  1682, 
landing  after  a  passage  of  six  weeks. 

We  were  for  the  hour  sumptuously  entertained.  Small  castles 
coves,  headlands,  near  and  distant  scenery,  and  a  luxurious 
vegetation  lent  a  fascination  and  charm,  which  was  but  the 
beginning  of  a  series  of  similar  entertainments,  not  to  end  till 
after  the  first  of  September. 

CORK. 

Arrived  at  the  castle,  not  far  in  the  distance  is  seen,  through 
the  opening  of  the  hills  making  the  river  banks,  the  shipping  of 
the  city  of  Cork,  which  is  practically  the  capital  of  South  Ireland. 
We  find  it  a  large  commercial  metropolis,  built  closely  on  both 
sides  of  the  River  Lee.  The  latter  is  parted  at  the  city,  and  thus 
the  left  side  of  (  ork  stands  mainly  on  an  island,  connected  with 
the  other  side  by  nine  stone  or  iron  bridges.  It  has  in  all  a 
population  of  97,887,  and  is  the  third  city  of  Ireland  in  im- 
portance and  commerce,  being  excelled  only  by  Dublin  and 
,t. 

On  one  side  of  tin-  river  aa  we  pass  into  the  city,  at  our  left 
hand,  are  shipyards,  repair  and  dry  dorks,  and  a  vast  amount 
of  work  of  the   kind   is  dune.      It  may  be  added,  there   is  pre- 


12  IRELAND. 

sented  to  view  in  the  harbor  a  forest  of  masts,  and  here  may  be 
seen  the  shipping  of  all  nations.  Near  these  and  just  above 
them,  up  along  farther  in  the  city  and  bordering  the  river,  are 
fine  Boulevards,  —  narrow  parks  or  promenades  well  graded, 
called  the  Mardyke,  and  set  out  with  shade-trees.  The  opposite 
side  of  the  river,  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor  proper,  is  occu- 
pied by  elegant  lawns,  with  shrubbery  and  shade-trees  in  front 
of  fine  mansions  and  villas  ;  and  again,  along  the  river  above 
these,  begins  the  business  part  of  the  city. 

A  good  quay  extends  half  a  mile  on  both  sides  of  the  river. 
These  have  walls  of  cut,  dark  limestone,  crowned  by  a  substan- 
tial railing  as  a  protecting  balustrade.  The  larger  part  of  the 
place,  so  far  as  its  business  portion  is  concerned,  is  built  on 
level  ground,  and  here  the  streets  are  wide,  well  paved  and 
clean,  and  with  the  buildings,  all  of  which  are  of  brick  or  stone, 
a  majority  of  the  latter  being  painted  in  light  colors,  present  a 
pleasing  and  finished  appearance.  All  things  seen  are  anything 
but  what  is  imagined  by  a  stranger  when  he  hears  one  speak  of 
Irish  Cork. 

Here  and  there,  as  at  Queenstown,  may  be  seen  some  of  the 
old  Irish  male  stock,  with  corduroys  and  long  stockings,  velvet 
coats,  peculiar  felt  hats,  heavy  shoes  —  strangers  to  Day  and 
Martin's  specialty  ;  but  these  are  exceptions,  about  as  much  so 
as  they  are  in  the  Irish  sections  of  New  York  or  Boston.  Gen- 
erally speaking,  the  dress  of  the  people,  male  and  female,  of  Irish 
cities  is  not  peculiar,  and  aside  from  these  exceptional  instances 
they  do  not  vary  from  those  of  London  or  Boston. 

As  regards  a  good  civilization  —  everywhere  in  the  business 
parts  of  the  city,  manifested  by  large  and  well-filled  stores  and 
fine  warehouses,  and  by  well  dressed  and  industrious  people  — 
our  impressions  were  very  favorable. 

The  city  in  this  region,  like  all  large  places,  has  its  quota  of 
men  loafing  about  its  bridges  and  wharves,  waiting,  Micawber 
like,  "  for  something  to  turn  up."  So  has  Atlantic  Avenue, 
Boston.  In  these  respects  Boston  is  Corkish,  or  Cork  is  like 
Boston.  About  the  steamer  wharves  and  at  the  railway  station 
(we  don't  now  talk  of  depots,  for  to  be  true  to  foreign  dialect, 
we  must  say  station)  it  is  the  same.  At  these,  and  along  the 
thoroughfare  from  it,  are  boys,  Yankee-like,  ready  to  turn  an 
honest  penny  or  to  earn  one  ;  and  very  demonstrative  they 
are,  and  the  cabmen  as  well.  Americans  are  often  outdone  by 
them.  One  of  these  boys,  at  the  moment  of  our  landing  from 
the  steamer,  seized  our  valises  and  would  carry  them.      He 


CORK.  13 

insisted  and  we  nfsisted,  and  at  length  the  American  element  io 
us  —  "  the  spirit  of  '76  "  —  was  aroused,  and  in  the  ascendant ; 
and  to  convince  him  that  he  ought  to  let  go  his  hold,  down 
came  a  hand  on  his  arm  with  a  force,  and  accompanied  by  a 
tone  of  voice  and  ejaculation,  that  meant  business.  "  Keep  off ! 
Let  go  ! "  was  the  order  and  advice,  and  he  did  both. 

Here,  as  at  Queenstown,  the  little  donkeys  were  on  hand, 
and  rendering  a  large  and  patient  service.  The  public  buildings 
are  not  very  important,  but  substantial  and  good  of  their  kind. 
Conspicuous  among  the  new  edifices  is  the  Episcopal  Cathedral 
now  being  erected.  It  is  of  stone,  very  imposing,  with  three 
towers,  and  in  the  Romanesque  style  of  architecture.  The 
Roman  Catholic  Cathedral,  SS.  Peter  and  Paul,  also  of  dark 
limestone,  having  cut  or  hammered  dressing,  is  a  Gothic  struc- 
ture of  considerable  size,  with  a  good  tower  at  the  centre  of  the 
front  end,  crowned  with  four  turrets,  and  having  a  neat  but 
small  lawn,  surrounded  with  an  iron  fence,  about  the  cathedral's 
front.  It  was  erected  after  designs  by  the  celebrated  F.  W. 
Pugin,  and  cost  $150,000.  The  interior,  although  not  old,  was 
dirty  and  presented  a  dingy  appearance.  We  were  told  by  the 
verger  (sexton)  that  times  being  hard,  business  dull,  and  the 
people  poor,  accounted  for  the  condition.  We  differed  in 
opinion  in  other  respects  than  theologically,  but  made  no  men- 
tion of  the  fact,  and  passed  out. 

Of  course  we  must  see,  and  soon  at  that,  the  church  of 
St.  Ann's,  Shandon,  and  so  made  for  that.  It  ought  before  to 
have  been  said  that  soon  after  crossing  the  river  the  land  rises 
quite  fast ;  so  that  as  one  stands  in  the  business  part,  and  in 
the  thoroughfare  along  the  line  of  the  river,  —  and  looks  across 
the  entire  section  of  the  city  from  the  river  backwards,  the 
distant  parts  are  seen  towering  much  above  the  business  portion. 
High  up,  along  from  the  centre  to  the  right,  appear  shade- 
trees  and  good  gardens,  with  other  evidences  of  a  better  civi- 
lization ;  but  from  these  along  to  the  left  is  presented  a  view 
quite  the  opposite  of  the  front,  or  harbor,  view  of  Queenstown. 
There,  the  low  population  is  to  the  right  and  near  the  water ; 
while  here  it  begins  half-way  up  the  hill  at  the  centre,  and 
extends  a  half-mile  or  more  to  the  left  ;  and,  as  we  leave  the 
centre  named,  the  buildings  on  the  hillside,  and  the  group  or 
lot  widening  till  they  r<.n  li  from  the  river  to  the  top  <.i  the 
hill,  arc  go  arranged  that,  with  houses   of  several    Stories    and    of 

remarkably  quaint  design,  the  high  roofs  appear  in  ranges  one 

above    the    other,    and    the    great    hillside    presents    a    strange. 


14  IRELAND. 

antique,  thoroughly  European  appearance.  They  are  of  stone, 
built  in  the  most  substantial  manner,  and  are  unlike  anything 
that  can  be  found  in  America. 

But  we  resume  our  journey  to  St.  Ann's,  Shandon.  As 
observed  from  the  river  streets,  it  stands  not  far  from  the  Cath- 
olic Cathedral,  nor  far  from  the  centre  of  the  hillside,  as  re- 
gards extent  right  and  left,  or  elevation.  The  edifice  was  built 
in  1722.  The  tower  was  built  of  hewn  stone,  taken  from  the 
Franciscan  Abbey  —  where  James  II.  heard  mass  —  and  from 
the  ruins  of  Lord  Barry's  castle.  It  is  of  dark  limestone  on 
the  three  principal  sides,  and,  like  the  body  of  the  church,  with 
red  sandstone  on  the  rear  side  above  the  church  roof.  The 
edifice  is  made  celebrated  by  what  are  termed  and  somewhat 
well  known  as  The  Sweet  Bells  of  Shandon,  made  conspicuous 
by  the  poem  of  Father  Prout :  — 

"  Sweet  Bells  of  Shandon, 
That  sound  so  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters  of  the  River  Lee." 

The  church  is  Protestant  Episcopal,  and  is  of  a  debased 
Roman  architecture.  It  has  a  square  tower  rising  a  proper 
distance  above  the  roof,  and  this  is  crowned  by  a  series  of  three 
square  sections  of  somewhat  ill  proportions  as  regards  their 
low  height;  and  the  top  one  is  finished  with  a  small  dome  sur- 
mounted by  an  immense  fish  as  a  vane,  the  tower  and  steeple 
being  perhaps  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  high.  We  did  not 
hear  the  bells,  save  as  they  played  a  few  notes  at  the  quarter- 
hours.  The  one  on  which  the  hours  are  struck  is  probably  the 
largest  tenor  bell,  and  weighs  perhaps  2000  pounds.  What  we 
did  hear  of  them  did  not  arouse  enthusiasm.  We  simply 
thought  them  good  average  bells,  and  made  more  than  that,  in 
song  and  story,  simply  by  Father  Prout's  poem.  One  thing 
about  the  tower  struck  us  forcibly,  and  that  was  the  monstrous 
dials,  full  twelve  feet  in  diameter,  painted  directly  on  the  stone- 
work of  the  tower,  with  a  rim  of  stone  at  the  figure  circle. 

Next,  a  few  words  in  relation  to  the  population  and  condition 
of  this  part  of  the  city.  It  will  be  remembered  that  we  are  now 
in  the  centre  of  the  hillside,  as  seen  from  the  business  parts  of 
the  place,  and  at  an  elevation  of  full  sixty  feet,  —  in  the  con- 
spicuous, and  what  ought  to  be  aristocratic,  quarter  of  the 
metropolis.  But  alas  for  what  "  might  have  been."  The  street 
in  front,  and  the  passage  along  the  side  of  this  building,  are  ill 
cared  for  and  filthy  in  the  extreme.    A  burial-ground  forms  part  of 


CORK.  15 

the  premises  on  both  sides  of  the  edifice,  and  is  as  neglected  and 
disgraceful  as  one  can  well  imagine.  On  the  right  is  a  thorough- 
fare alongside  of  the  church,  leading  through  the  cemetery  to 
some  institution  —  perhaps  a  parish-school  or  hospital  —  in  the 
rear  of  the  church,  and  fronting  on  this  passage-way.  Here 
are  cast-off  shoes,  broken  crockery,  stones  thrown  about  by 
the  boys,  and  unmentionable  filth  in  abundance.  At  the  right 
are  broken  monuments,  badly  defaced  gravestones,  and  half- 
dilapidated  tombs,  all  betokening  a  general  lack  of  care  over  the 
premises. 

Walking  from  the  front  of  the  church  to  the  narrow  and  filthy 
streets  that  compose  the  neighborhood,  we  noticed  such  odors, 
sights,  and  conditions  as  we  had  before  erroneously  associated 
with  all  of  Cork.  We  here  saw  a  low  Ireland  at  its  best  —  or 
worst,  as  we  may  choose  to  term  it ;  for  here  abounded  dirt, 
degradation,  poverty,  and  general  squalor,  up  to  the  height  of 
our  early  imagination.  The  houses  are  of  stone,  plastered  and 
white-washed,  most  of  them^one  or  two  stories  high,  with  roofs 
covered  with  very  small  and  thick  slates.  We  soon  had  enough 
of  this  kind  of  "  Erin  go  bragh."  If  we  did  not  know  all  that 
was  possible  to  be  known,  imagination  would,  in  spite  of  us, 
aggravatingly  supply  what  was  lacking. 

As  we  passed  out  of  this  "  Paradise  Lost,"  or  at  least  the  one 
not  regained,  we  could  but  feel  that  to  make  less  display  of  ser- 
vice within  their  churches,  depend  less  for  good  fame  on  the 
Sweet  Bells  of  Shandon,  and  render  a  more  reasonable  and 
practical  service,  would  be  more  rational,  Christian  and  right. 

We  are  told  that  the  ancient  Pharisees  made  the  outside  clean, 
and  the  inside  was  full  of  dead  men's  bones,  and  all  manner  of 
uncleanness.  These  people  have  reversed  this,  and  without 
visible  improvement. 

Next  must  be  named  a  thing  of  interest,  and  that  is  the 
Bazaar.  It  is  a  one-story  building  of  immense  size,  and  in  ap- 
pearance like  a  railway  freight-house.  Built  of  stone,  and 
centrally  situated,  it  is  filled  with  every  conceivable  kind  of 
second-hand  goods.  Separated,  market-like,  into  stalls,  it  is  so 
arranged  and  confusing  as  to  make  a  labyrinth  of  avenues  and 
•  us.  Here  arc  su<  h  things  as  old  hardware,  boots  and 
. — some  as  poor  and  valueless  as  we  throw  away,  some 
better  and  newly  blacked,  —  clothing  for  both  sexes,  crockery, 
—  and  we  might  continue  the  list.  The  Bazaar  is  managed  by 
women,  and  the  pla<  e  and  ii ,  commodities  are  as  indescribable 

as  the  nationality  of  the  Man  in  the  ,\loon. 


16  IRELAND. 

As  at  Queenstown,  we  saw  much  drunkenness,  and  often  met, 
singly  or  in  squads,  the  Red-coats,  or  English  soldiers  ;  but  more 
concerning  these  will  be  said  in  another  place. 

The  space  we  devote  to  this  city  is  perhaps  more  than  its 
share,  but  less  can  hardly  be  said,  and  our  references  to  it  are 
ended  by  a  quotation  or  two  from  its  history. 

It  is  said  that  Cromwell,  during  his  short  sojourn  in  Cork, 
caused  the  church  bells  to  be  cast  into  cannon.  On  being  re- 
monstrated with  against  the  profanity,  he  replied  that  as  a  priest 
had  been  the  inventor  of  gunpowder,  the  best  use  of  the  bells 
would  be  to  cast  them  into  canons. 

It  was  here  that  William  Penn,  founder  of  our  Pennsylvania, 
became  a  convert  to  Quakerism.  He  visited  the  place  to 
look  after  his  father's  property,  changed  his  religion  under  the 
preaching  of  Thomas  Loe,  and  on  Sept.  3,  1667,  was  appre- 
hended with  others  and  taken  before  the  Mayor's  Court,  charged 
with  "  attending  unlawful  assemblies."  Refusing  to  give  bonds 
for  good  behavior  he  was  imprisoned,  but  wrote  to  the  Lord 
President  of  the  council  of  Munster,  who  ordered  his  discharge. 
He  was  identified  with  the  Quakers  from  this  time  till  his 
decease,  at  Ruscombe,  England,  July  30,  1 718,  at  the  age  of 
seventy-four. 

Cork  has  an  interesting  ancient  history.  It  was  long  the  seat 
of  a  Pagan  temple,  on  the  site  of  which  St.  Fionn  Bar,  the 
anchorite,  founded  a  monastery  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventh 
century.  The  Danes  in  the  ninth  century  overran  the  kingdom, 
and  were  probably  the  real  founders  of  the  city,  and  they  sur- 
rounded it  with  walls  ;  though  the  St.  Fionn  Bar  monastery  had 
continued  through  the  centuries,  and  it  is  recorded  that,  on  the 
intrusion  of  the  Danes,  the  seminary  had  full  seven  hundred 
scholars  "  who  had  flocked  there  from  all  parts." 

The  inhabitants,  under  the  Danes  and  their  successors,  fre- 
quently devastated  the  entire  vicinity,  and  were  in  turn  pun- 
ished by  the  neighboring  chiefs. 

In  1493  Perkin  Warbeck,  the  impostor  king  and  pretender 
to  the  throne  of  England  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  was  re- 
ceived here  with  great  pomp  and  display.  In  consequence  of 
participation  in  this  act,  the  mayor  was  hanged  and  beheaded, 
and  the  city  lost  its  charter,  which  was  not  restored  till  1609. 

An  ancient  historian,  Ralph  Holinshed,  whose  works  were 
published  in  1577,  thus  describes  this  city.  "  On  the  land  side 
they  are  encumbered  with  evil  neighbors  —  the  Irish  outlaws, 
that  they  are  fein  to  watch  their  gates  hourlie,  to  keep  them  shut 


CORK.  1 i 

at  service  time,  and  at  meales,  from  sun  to  sun,  nor  suffer  anie 
stranger  to  enter  the  citie  with  his  weapon,  but  the  same  to 
leave  at  a  lodge  appointed.  They  walk  out  at  seasons  for 
recreation  with  power  of  men  furnished.  They  trust  not  the 
country  adjoining,  but  match  in  wedlock  among  themselves 
onlie,  so  that  the  whole  citie  is  well-nigh  linked  one  to  the  other 
in  affinite." 

In  the  War  of  the  Protectorate,  Cork  maintained  its  condi- 
tion as  a  loyal  city  till  1 649,  when  it  was  surprised  and  taken  by 
Cromwell,  whose  acts  and  cruelties  are  well  known  the  civilized 
world  over. 


18  IRELAND. 


CHAPTER   II. 

BLARNEY  —  KILLARNEY  —  THE   LAKES. 

AT  9  A.  M.  Tuesday,  April  23,  we  took  a  jaunting-car  for 
famed  Blarney  Castle.  Before  proceeding  with  our 
story  we  must  speak  of  our  team,  for  it  is  the  mode  of 
conveyance  for  tourists  over  the  Emerald  Isle,  and  Ireland 
would  hardly  seem  like  Ireland  without  the  jaunting-car.  It 
is  a  vehicle  with  two  wheels  and  a  single  horse.  The  driver  is 
mounted  up,  sulky-style,  in  front.  There  are  two  seats,  length- 
wise and  back-to-back,  for  a  couple  of  adult  persons,  facing  out- 
wards, and  most  of  the  time  holding  on,  though  a  little  practice 
convinces  one  that  the  danger  of  falling  is  less  than  anticipated. 
Large  numbers  of  these  teams  are  in  the  main  streets  of  all  the 
principal  Irish  towns,  waiting  for  employment.  The  usual  price 
for  a  jaunt  is  eight  shillings,  or  about  $2.00  of  American  money. 
The  one  selected,  whose  driver  was  over  anxious  to  carry  the 
two  Amirikins,  as  he  called  us,  offered  to  do  the  job  for  jv. 
6d.  Yankee-like,  having  made  a  good  bargain,  —  and  the 
driver,  unyankee-like,  having  as  at  an  auction  bid  against  him- 
self, —  we  mounted,  and  were  soon  on  our  way  to  the  place  so 
renowned  in  history.     First,  we  will  consider  the  roads. 

The  ride  is  exceedingly  pleasant,  and  over  one  of  the  smooth 
and  hard  roads  which  are  everywhere  to  be  found  in  Ireland. 
We  go  out  of  Cork  southwardly,  and  pass  through  a  small  and 
not  over-nice  settlement  called  Black  Pool,  by  no  means  inaptly 
named.  The  scenery  is  very  pleasing,  and  so  is  the  road  we 
travel.  The  view  on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  though  not  wild 
or  romantic,  has  beautiful  landscapes,  made  up  of  fine  hills  and 
valleys,  streams  and  groves,  with,  now  and  then,  unlooked-for 
ruins  of  a  monastery  or  small  castle,  or  of  distant  round- 
towers. 

There  are  no  long  straight  roads,  but  there  is  an  ever  vary- 
ing aspect,  and  the  ways  are  clean  to  a  fault.  It  is  a  charac- 
teristic of  Ireland,  England,  and  nearly  all  European  countries, 
to  have  well-built  faced-stone  walls  along  the  roadside,  and  an 


RIDE  TO   BLARNEY.  19 

entire  absence  of  the  random  weeds  and  bushes  which  so 
commonly  grow  along  the  walls  and  sides  of  the  roads  in  Amer- 
ica. It  is  a  disgrace  to  our  Young  American  civilization  that  it 
should  be  an  exception,  where  the  sides  of  our  roads,  and  es- 
pecially in  the  vicinity  of  farmhouses,  are  clean,  and  in  lawn-like 
condition,  as  is  always  the  case  abroad.  We  have  much  to  learn 
from  Ireland,  —  a  deal  of  our  practice  to  unlearn,  and  consid- 
erable to  do,  —  before  we  can  compare  favorably  with  Europe  in 
this  respect.  A  waste  of  acres  exists  in  consequence  of  this 
neglect  on  nearly  all  New  England  farms.  In  the  aggregate 
there  are  hundreds  of  thousands  of  acres  which,  if  kept  clean 
and  cultivated  for  grass,  would  be  profitable.  Even  if  done  at 
the  town's  expense,  the  income  would  go  far  towards  paying 
the  cost  of  keeping  in  repair  the  adjoining  highway.  The 
State  should  pass  a  law  making  this  neglect  a  finable  offence  ; 
and  the  sooner  all  States  do  this  the  better  our  civilization 
will  be. 

We  continue  on  our  way  enjoying  inexpressibly  the  exhilar- 
ating air  and  sunny,  May-like  day,  and  entertained  somewhat 
by  the  clack  of  the  driver,  who,  as  best  he  can,  tries  to  make 
his  old  story  appear  to  us  as  new  as  possible,  but,  in  spite  of 
our  or  his  efforts,  we  get  the  impression  that  he  has  told  that 
story  before. 

We  next  get  a  good  but  distant  view  of  Carrigrohan  Castle, 
belonging  to  one  Mr.  McSwiney  —  the  name  of  both  castle  and 
owner  Irish  enough.  It  is  situated  on  a  precipitous  limestone- 
rock  formation  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river.  At  length  — 
one  hour  passed,  and  about  four  miles  traversed  —  we  arrive  at 
the  old,  dirty,  low,  dilapidated,  Irish  town  of  Blarney,  which, 
for  situation  and  surroundings,  is  as  beautiful  as  every  place  in 
Ireland  can't  help  being.  Blarney  has  been  immortalized  in 
song  by  Millikin,  Croker,  and  old,  peculiar  Father  Prout. 

A  ride  of  two  miles,  and  we  are  at  the  grounds  of  the  castle 
itself.  It  was  built  in  the  fifteenth  century  by  Cormac  McCar- 
thy, or  possibly  by  the  Countess  of  Desmond,  and  became  the 
home  of  the  famous  family  of  McCarthys.  It  is  now  a  magnifi- 
cent old  ruin,  well  situated  near  a  little  lake,  and  surrounded 
by  grand  old  trees.  Admission  to  the  premises  is  readily 
gained,  as  the  grounds  are  open  to  the  public  free,  such  small, 
Optional   fee  being  given  to  the  guide  as  the  tourist  may  incline 

to  ]>T- 

The  castle  consists   mainly  of  the    massive    Donjon     Town, 


20  IRELAND. 

about  forty  feet  square,  and  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  high,  and 
some  ruined  walls  of  less  height,  once  part  of  adjoining  apart- 
ments. Much  of  the  tower  and  lower  walls  is  completely  cov- 
ered with  ivy,  and  most  of  the  foliage  is  from  twelve  to  sixteen 
inches  thick.  There  is  a  picturesqueness  about  such  a  place 
that  is  indescribable.  The  grand  and  colossal  stale  on  which  it 
is  constructed ;  the  rich  greenness  of  the  lawns  ;  the  shade  of 
portions  of  the  immediately  adjoining  groves  ;  the  sombre  hue 
of  the  stonework,  and  the  dark  green  of  the  mantling  ivy  ;  the 
gleam  of  the  little  lake  as  discovered  through  the  vistas  ;  the 
age  of  the  edifice,  so  apparent ;  the  consciousness  that  this  is  a 
veritable  ruin,  and  what  is  left  of  an  unparalleled  splendor  of 
other  days,  now  calm  as  if  resting  fixed  in  its  immortality, — 
these  combine  to  resolve  imagination  into  reality,  and  produce 
sensations  that  are  felt,  but  never  transferred  from  one  mortal 
to  another.  Perhaps  there  enters  into  emotion  a  suggestion 
of  decline  and  decay  still  operating.  "The  vulgar  crowd," 
as  old  English  expression  would  put  it,  are  possessed  not 
by  the  finer  aesthetic  conditions,  but  by  those  more  tangible 
and  material. 

The  famed  Blarney  Stone  is  one  of  the  coping-stones  of 
the  outside  projecting  cornice,  near  the  top  of  the  tower,  and 
resting  on  large,  but  plain,  stone  corbels,  or  brackets.  In 
appearance  from  the  ground,  it  is  six  feet  long  and  eighteen 
inches  thick,  and  projects  two  feet  or  so.  Many  years  ago  it 
appeared  to  be  insecure,  and  two  iron  bars  were  put  on  the 
outside,  securing  it  in  its  position.  There  are  courses  of  stone 
upon  it,  falling  back  from  the  front  surface,  and  making  a  para- 
pet to  the  tower.  It  was  over  this  parapet  that  persons,  head 
downwards,  held  and  aided  by  others,  performed  the  task  of 
kissing  the  stone.  A  stairway  on  the  inside  leads  nearly  to  the 
top  of  the  tower ;  but  now,  for  a  more  convenient  and  safe  way 
of  performing  the  operation,  another  stone,  bearing  date  1703, 
is  kept  within  the  tower.  Its  magic  is  as  effectual,  while  it  is 
reached  with  comparative  safety. 

It  is  indeed  marvellous  that  a  few  lines  of  worse  than  dog- 
gerel poetry  have  materially  aided  in  giving  this  stone  a  noto- 
riety that  is  world-wide,  and  which,  but  for  this  aid,  would 
hardly  have  been  heard  of  outside  of  its  neighborhood.  It  was 
long  a  superstitious  belief  that  whoever  kissed  it  would  ever 
after  be  in  possession  of  such  sweet,  persuasive,  and  convincing 
eloquence  as  to  put  the  listener  entirely  under  the  control  of  the 


BLARNEY    CASTLE.  21 

speaker.     Rev.  Father  Prout's  allusion  to  the  stone  is  in  part  as 
follows  :  — 

There  is  a  stone  there  that  whoever  kisses, 

Oh!  he  never  misses  to  grow  eloquent; 
'T  is  he  may  clamber  to  a  lady's  chamber, 

Or  become  a  member  of  Parliament. 

A  clever  spouter  he  '11  sure  turn  out,  or 

An  out  and  outer,  to  be  let  alone  ! 
Don't  hope  to  hinder  him  or  to  bewilder  him, 

Sure  he  's  a  pilgrim  from  the  Blarney  Stone. 

The  grounds  by  which  the  castle  are  surrounded  were  once 
adorned  with  statues,  bridges,  grottos,  but  all  are  now  gone, 
and  Father  Prout  deplores  the  condition  as  follows  :  — 

The  muses  shed  a  tear, 
When  the  cruel  auctioneer, 
With  his  hammer  in  his  hand  to  sweet  Blarney  came. 

Blarney  Lake  is  a  beautiful  piece  of  water,  set  in  a  charming 
framework  of  trees  and  natural  shrubbery,  and  is  about  five 
minutes'  walk  from  the  castle.  Tradition,  handed  down  through 
many  generations,  has  it  that  at  certain  seasons  a  herd  of  white 
cows  come  up  from  the  centre  of  the  lake,  look  admiringly  but 
with  a  melancholy  pleasure  on  the  ruined  castle,  for  a  few 
moments'  graze  on  the  lawns  near  it,  and  then  with  a  soldierly 
march  retire  to  their  oblivion-like  resting-place,  there  to  remain 
till  the  time  comes  next  year  for  their  weird  and  fairy-like  visit. 
Another  legend  is  —  and  this  country  abounds  with  them  — 
that  the  Earl  of  Chantry  having  forfeited  the  castle,  and  having 
had  it  confiscated  and  ruined  at  the  Revolution,  carried  his 
plate  and  deposited  it  in  a  particular  part  of  the  lake,  and  that 
three  McCarthys,  and  they  only,  are  in  possession  of  the  secret 
of  the  place  where  it  was  cast  in.  When  either  of  the  three 
dies,  he  communicates  the  intelligence  to  some  other  member 
of  the  family,  and  thus  the  secret  is  kept,  never  to  be  publicly 
revealed  till  a  McCarthy  is  again  Lord  of  Blarney. 

Within  the  castle  grounds  runs  the  small  River  Coman,  and 
on  its  banks  is  an  old  Cromlech,  <>r  druidical  altar ;  and  there 
are  also  a  number  of  pillar-stones,  similar  to  those  at  Stonehenge, 
on  which  are  worn  inscriptions  of  ancient  Ogham  characters. 

Differing  as  the  place  did  from  anything  yet  seen  by  us,  and 

our   anticipations    more    than    fulfilled,    we,    after   a    two    hours' 
BOJOUm,  reluctantly  mounted  the  jaunting-car  and  took  our  way 


99 


IRELAND. 


back  to  Cork.  After  dining  at  the  Victoria,  at  half-past  three  of 
this  same  day,  we  took  steam-cars  for  the  town  of  Killarney  ; 
and  here  we  must  speak  of  the  railroads. 

As  this  was  our  first  experience  in  travelling  on  one  of  them, 
we  may  with  propriety  say  something  of  them  once  for  all  ;  for 
one  statement  applies  to  railroads,  not  only  in  Ireland,  England, 
and  Scotland,  but  in  all  those  parts  of  Europe  where  we  have 
travelled.  Solid  are  the  roadbeds,  not  troubled  by  frosts  as  ours 
are.  Stone  or  iron  are  the  bridges,  and  of  the  most  durable 
kind,  often  with  brick  abutments  and  arches.  Of  course,  at 
times,  there  are  the  bridges  for  common  roads  that  pass  over 
them.  The  substantial  tunnels  are  sometimes  miles  long.  There 
are  well-made  grass  enbankments,  nicely  kept.  The  stations 
are  quite  good  and  cleanly,  and  there  is  invariably  an  exquisite 
neatness  about  the  outside,  where  flower-patches  and  borders 
are  carefully  cultivated.  The  restaurants  are  poor  and  unin- 
viting. Especially  is  this  description  true  of  England.  Large 
and  strong  engines,  on  which  is  an  absence  of  superfluous 
decorations  of  brass,  or  costly-to-keep-clean  finish,  are  univer- 
sal. The  cars,  as  we  say,  but  coaches  as  they  term  them,  are  of 
three  classes,  first,  second,  and  third.  The  best  of  them  are 
undesirable  to  Americans,  but  submitted  to  in  the  absence  of 
those  with  which  they  are  familiar. 

Prices  for  travel  vary.  That  of  first-class  is  slightly  more  per 
mile  than  in  ours.  The  second-class  is  something  less,  or,  on 
an  average,  two  thirds  the  cost  of  ours.  Two  cents  per  mile  is 
the  usual  tariff.  Perhaps  one  quarter  of  the  people  ride  first- 
class,  and  the  remainder  are  about  equally  divided  between  the 
second  and  third.  The  first-class  are  what  we  may  describe  as 
from  four  to  six  common  mail-stages,  built  together  as  one.  but 
wide  enough  for  five  persons  on  each  seat.  There  is  a  door  in 
the  middle,  opening  on  the  platforms,  and  of  course  half  of  the 
passengers  must  ride  backward.  This  is  true  also  of  the  other 
classes,  with  slight  exceptions  in  some  of  the  cars  of  Switzerland  ; 
and  even  these,  at  their  best,  make  an  American  homesick,  and 
sigh  for  those  of  his  native  land.  A  light,  or  window,  in  the 
doors,  and  a  small  one  at  the  end  of  each  seat,  is  the  universal 
rule.  Second  and  third-class  cars  are  nearly  alike,  save  perhaps 
that  there  are  cushions  in  the  former,  while  there  are  none  in 
the  latter ;  though  by  no  means  does  the  purchase  of  a  second- 
class  ticket  ensure  cushions.  The  cars  of  these  classes  are 
straight-sided,  like  our  freight  cars,  with  side  doors  and  small 
windows  like  those  of  the  first-class.     There  are  no  fires,  poor 


RAILWAYS.  23 

lights  for  night  travel ;  no  toilet  saloons,  nor  any  conveniences 
as  in  ours.  Once  in,  the  door  is  shut  by  an  official,  and  usually 
locked  till  we  land  at  the  next  station.  In  the  cars  of  the  first  two 
classes  the  partitions  extend  from  floor  to  roof,  with  seats  against 
both  sides  :  but  in  a  few  of  the  third-class  there  is  simply  a 
wide  rail  for  resting  the  back,  or  a  partition  of  the  same  height. 
When  we  saw  any  of  these,  though  having  it  may  be  a  second- 
class  ticket,  we  would,  to  be  as  homelike  as  possible,  avail  our- 
selves of  them.  One  does  not  object  to  second-class  passage  ; 
and  even  the  third  is  far  from  being  as  questionable  as  at  first 
thought,  to  one  unused  to  travelling,  it  might  seem.  It  is  gen- 
erally the  intensely  aristocratic  class,  of  the  noli-me-tangere  kind, 
who  ride  first-class,  —  or  Americans  inexperienced  in  travel. 

Officials  are  at  all  stations  in  abundance.  They  are  ready 
cheerfully  —  but  in  their  own  way,  to  be  sure  —  to  give  any 
information  a  traveller  may  require.  In  all  parts  of  the  Con- 
tinent over  which  we  journeyed,  we  had  no  special  trouble  in 
understanding  them,  or  in  making  them  understand  us.  So 
many  English  and  Americans  travel  that  the  employees  soon 
learn  how  to  reply  to  the  usual  questions  put  to  them.  A  little 
knowledge,  however,  of  German  and  of  French  —  as  much  as 
applies  to  common  things,  and  as  may  with  a  little  exertion  be 
learned  from  most  of  the  guidebooks  —  helps  the  tourist  amaz- 
ingly. As  regards  the  time  made  by  these  railroads,  we  rode 
on  some  of  them  faster  than  on  ours  at  home,  and  are  justified 
in  saying  that  their  promptness  of  arrival  at  stations  is  incredi- 
ble. The  roads  with  which  we  are  conversant  are  in  advance 
of  ours  in  this  respect.  In  but  one  instance  did  we  find  a  train 
late  ;  and  waiting  at  junctions  for  other  trains  was  apparently 
unknown.  The  conductors  are  expected  to  run  their  trains 
on  time,  and  they  do  so  unless  prevented  by  accidents.  We 
have  been  thus  minute  in  stating  the  facts,  as  they  are  sure  to 
be  of  interest  to  persons  contemplating  a  journey. 

And  now  we  pursue  our  way,  having  left  Cork  at  3  o'clock  p.  \t., 
towards  Killarney  and  its  famed  lakes,  which  to  us  have  all  the 
charms  of  the  best  Castles  in  the  Air  ;  for  who  that  has  thought 
of  the  famous  Lakes  of  Killarney  has  not  fancied  something 
good  enough  for  a  place  in  the  neighborhood  of  Eden  in  its 
palmy  days?  Tickets  in  first-class  cars  cost  us  $2.25  each. 
After  a  ride  of  two  hours  we  arrive  at  Mallow,  and  after  three 
hours  more,  at  Killarney.     The  first  look   of  the   town  indicates 

a  village  well  shaded  with  trees,  and  one  is  led  to  anticipate 

anything  but  the  reality. 


2  \  IRELAND. 

The  houses  are  built  in  the  usual  Irish  style,  —  that  is,  they  are 
of  plastered  and  whitewashed  stone,  and  the  roofs  arc  thatched. 
Generally  they  are  not  over  one  story  in  height,  and  a  low  story 
at  that.  They  stand  on  crooked  and  narrow  streets  —  or  alleys, 
rather.  There  is  an  absence  of  cleanliness,  and  little  to  sustain 
distant  impressions.  One  of  the  things  that  early  attract  the 
tourist's  attention  is  the  general  poverty  of  many  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, their  lack  of  employment  and  visible  means  of  support. 
Beggars  are  bold  and  used  to  their  calling ;  and  both  they  and 
the  swarm  of  would-be  guides  are  annoying  if  treated  with  com- 
mon civility.  There  is  an  ancient  look  about  buildings  and 
people,  and  we  get  the  suggestion  that  we  see  things  as  they 
were  a  century  ago.  Nothing  is  new  and  fresh  but  the  foliage. 
Everything  has  the  old  odor  of  an  ancient  place. 

The  town  has  a  population  of  5,187,  exclusive  of  400  inmates 
of  the  almshouse  —  one  to  every  thirteen  of  the  population. 
Killarney  is  situated  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  nearest  of 
the  three  lakes.  There  are  two  or  three  streets  of  some  preten- 
sions, on  which  are  buildings  three  or  four  stories  high,  used  as 
stores  and  hotels.  Our  hotel,  the  Innisfallen  House,  was  kept, 
as  all  such  small  taverns  are,  by  a  woman.  It  was  a  thoroughly 
antiquated  Irish  institution,  and  for  this  reason  we  selected  it. 
Experienced  by  long  years  of  practice,  our  hostess  was  the  man 
of  the  house,  and  had  an  eye  to  business  that  would  do  honor 
to  the  manager  of  the  Vendome  or  the  Brunswick  at  Boston. 

There  are  few  public  buildings.  The  newish  Roman  Catholic 
Cathedral  is  a  large  structure  of  limestone,  of  good  early  English 
architecture,  built  from  designs  by  Pugin.  It  is  hardly  in  keep- 
ing with  the  town  as  it  is,  and  only  the  eye  of  faith  can  see  its 
harmony  with  the  Killarney  of  the  future. 

Here  may  be  related  an  incident  illustrating  a  custom  which 
is  doubtless  a  relic  of  other  days.  After  our  visit  to  the  cathe- 
dral, at  about  7  p.  m.,  we  were  surprised  by  the  sight  of  a 
peculiar  crowd  of  people  coming  up  the  street  we  had  entered. 
It  was  a  procession,  numbering  some  hundred  or  more,  carry- 
ing a  coffin  to  the  cathedral.  The  coffin  was  oaken,  moulded 
at  the  top  and  bottom  edges  with  black,  and  having  three  orna- 
mental, black,  iron  plates  —  eight  inches  square,  with  rings  in 
them  —  on  each  side.  Black,  round-headed  nails  ornamented 
the  ends.  The  coffin  was  not  covered,  and  rested  on  the 
shoulders  of  six  men,  three  on  each  side.  As  by  magic,  three 
bearers  would  occasionally  step  out,  and  others  take  their 
places.      Back  of  those  who  headed  the  procession  were  two 


KILLARNEY.  25 

rows  of  women,  from  fifty  to  seventy  years  old,  with  black 
dresses,  and  shawls  over  their  heads.  These  were  howling, 
two  or  more  at  a  time  keeping  up  the  noise  ;  and  thus,  with- 
out break  or  intermission,  there  was  a  continued  wailing,  in 
syllables  of  a  slow  but  measured  and  distinct  utterance,  sound- 
ing like  "  Ar — ter — ow — ow — ow — er."  This  was  repeated  till 
the  perfection  of  monotony  was  attained. 

When  near  the  cathedral  the  procession  halted  and  the 
wailing  ceased.  The  crowd  numbered,  it  may  be,  a  hundred. 
Arriving  at  the  side  door  the  coffin  was  carried  in,  and  about 
twenty  persons,  probably  the  near  relatives,  entered.  The 
remainder,  including  the  Americans,  —  who,  now  "  being  in  Tur- 
key, were  doing  as  the  Turkeys  do,"  —  remained  outside,  and 
stood  or  knelt  uncovered.  In  a  few  moments  all  was  ended  ; 
the  friends  came  out  of  the  cathedral,  the  crowd  dispersed,  and 
"  rag,  tag,  and  bobtail "  resumed  their  usual  vocations,  the  dead 
man  having  been  left  in  the  building,  with  the  approved  and 
requisite  number  of  candles  "  to  light  him  to  glory." 

Turning  into  another  street,  another  and  similar  crowd  was 
encountered.  This  time  the  coffin  was  covered  with  black 
cloth,  but  decorated  like  the  other,  with  mouldings,  nails,  and 
iron  plates.  In  five  minutes  more  came  another.  We  were 
told  the  bodies  were  to  remain  in  the  cathedral  till  to-morrow, 
when  mass  could  be  held  and  they  would  be  buried.  This  is  a 
custom  of  the  place  each  evening,  and  has  been  continued  from 
time  immemorial.  It  results  from  bad  judgment  as  to  what  is  a 
good  use  of  the  present,  or  what  is  a  befitting  preparation  for  the 
hereafter.  It  is  a  type  of  superstition  gone  to  seed,  and  shows 
a  love  for  sitting  in  "  the  region  and  shadow  of  death." 

Now  we  ramble  over  the  town,  and  through  some  of  the  well- 
kept  and  stone-walled  roads.  In  spite  of  the  condition  of  the 
most  populous  parts,  there  is  a  delight  and  charm  in  these  sub- 
urbs. In  that  pleasant  evening  air,  within  sound  of  the  vesper 
bells,  enveloped  in  the  general  stillness  of  that  village  atmo- 
sphere, there  came  good  and  vivid  impressions  of  the  antiquity 
of  the  place.  Without  an  effort  came  the  remembrance  that, 
through  the  past  centuries,  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 
of  sight-seers,  poets,  historians,  and  people  of  great  and  of  small 
renown,  had  walked  these  streets,  meditated,  used  the  time  as 
we  were  doing,  and  passed  on,  —  their  feet  never  to  press  this 
historic  soil  again,  — 

Like  the  snow-fall  in  the  river, 
A  moment  white,  then  melts  forever. 


26  IRELAND. 

The  next  morning  we  took  a  jaunting-car,  and  began  our 
tour  of  the  lakes.  A  most  elegant  day  it  was,  like  good  old 
George  Herbert's  Sunday  —  the  "bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky." 
Admirable  in  all  respects  were  the  roads  and  their  surround- 
ings, —  a  perpetual  reminder  of  worse  kept  ones  at  home.  W  e 
pass  an  elegant  stone  building,  the  Union  Workhouse  and  County 
Lunatic  Asylum,  on  the  right,  leaving  the  cathedral  on  our  left, 
and  ride  on  through  that  lovely  scenery.  It  is  not  wild  or 
romantic,  in  the  common  signification  of  those  words. 

On  our  right,  off  in  the  fields  and  on  elevated  ground,  are 
the  ruins  of  Aghadoe,  overlooking  an  immense  valley,  where 
reposes  —  out  of  sight  to  us  at  our  left,  Lough  Leane,  the  lower 
and  largest  of  the  three  celebrated  lakes: 

Next,  three  miles  out,  are  the  ruins  of  Aghadoe  castle  and 
church.  All  that  remains  are  the  fragments  of  a  tower  thirty 
or  forty  feet  in  height.  Of  its  history,  or  the  date  of  its  founda- 
tion, no  records  are  extant.  The  church  is  a  fine  ruin,  and 
shows  the  remains  of  a  long  low  building,  consisting  of  two 
chapels,  joined  at  their  rear  ends.  The  easterly  chapel  is  in 
the  Gothic  style,  bearing  date  a.  d.  1158,  and  is  dedicated  to  the 
Holy  Trinity.  Full  seven  hundred  years  are  gone,  more  than 
a  third  of  the  Christian  era,  since  that  stone  pile  was  placed 
where  it  is.  The  other  chapel  is  older  yet,  of  a  rude,  Roman- 
esque architecture,  and  was  built  under  the  patronage  of  St. 
Finian.  The  two  are  separated  by  a  solid  wall,  through  which 
there  was  once  a  communication,  closed  up  long  before  the 
vacating  and  destruction  of  the  building.  The  roof  and  wood- 
work being  gone,  nothing  but  stone  remains.  The  two  chapels, 
extending  to  the  east  and  west,  are  eighty  feet  long  and  twenty 
feet  wide. 

Continuing  our  ride  a  mile  farther,  we  turn  to  the  left,  and 
pass  the  Aghadoe  House,  —  a  fine  and  well-kept  estate,  the 
residence  of  the  Dowager  Lady  Headley.  Next,  we  turn  sharp 
to  the  right,  and  are  at  the  estate  of  James  O'Connell,  Esq., 
brother  of  the  late  distinguished  agitator,  Daniel  O'Connell. 
Continuing,  we  pass  the  Killalee  House,  and  the  ruins  of  its 
church.  Six  and  a  half  miles  now  from  Killarney,  we  have  on 
our  left,  the  elegant  estate  of  Beaufort  House. 

We  cross  the  little  River  Laune,  which  is  filled  with  surplus 
water  from  the  small,  or  upper  lake,  and  here  appears  to  view 
Dunloe  Castle,  the  seat  of  Daniel  Mahoney,  Esq.  The  build- 
ing has  a  modern  look,  and  was  originally  the  residence  of  the 
powerful  and   noted  O'Sullivan  Mor.      We  must   not   fail  to 


RIDE    TO    THE    LAKES.  27 

notice  the  Cave  of  Dunloe.  It  is  situated  in  a  field  some  dis- 
tance off,  is  of  great  antiquity,  and  was  discovered  in  183S.  It 
contains  peculiar  stones,  which  are  presumed  to  belong  to  an 
ancient  Irish  library  ;  and,  strange  to  say,  the  books  are  the 
large  stones  composing  the  roof.  Their  angles  contain  the 
writings,  which  are  simple,  short,  vertical  lines,  arranged,  tally-like, 
above  and  below  a  horizontal  one.  Special  numbers  or  com- 
binations of  these  lines  designate  letters.  It  is  the  Ogham 
alphabet. 

We  are  now  near  the  cottage  of  the  celebrated  Kate  Kearney, 
whom  Moore  has  immortalized  in  his  "Sweet  Innisfallen,"  — 

"  Kate  Kearney, 
Who  lives  on  the  banks  of  Killarney." 

The  house  is  solitary,  and  stands  on  the  left  of  the  roadside, 
with  high  hills  about  it.  It  is  but  one  story  high,  and  is  some 
forty  feet  long,  and  twenty  wide.  It  is  made  of  stone,  plastered 
and  whitewashed,  has  a  thatched  roof,  and  is  occupied  by  the 
reputed  granddaughter  of  the  famous  Kate,  and  of  course  she 
bears  the  same  name.  On  our  arrival,  she  appeared  at  her 
door  as  usual  —  an  old  woman  of  sixty  years,  of  small  stature. 
She  wore  a  short  dress,  heavy  shoes,  the  inevitable  kerchief, 
or  miniature  shawl,  folded  diamond-ways  over  her  shoulders, 
and  a  frilled  white  muslin  cap  on  her  head.  She  held  a  mug 
in  one  hand,  and  a  common  wine  bottle  in  the  other,  with 
glass  tumbler  to  match.  She  poured  out  the  goat's  milk,  and 
then  naively,  with  an  almost  young-maidenly  tone  of  voice, 
asked  :  "  And  will  ye  not  have  put  into  it  a  drop  of  the  moun- 
tain dew?"  We  must,  though  total  abstinence  men,  run  a 
bit  of  risk  now,  to  do  all  that  curious  tourists  do,  so  we  said 
Yes.  A  drop  or  two  mingled  with  the  milk,  when  the  thought 
instantly  came  that  at  home  the  dew  would  have  been  so  like 
whiskey  that  we  could  n't  convince  ourselves  it  was  not,  and  so 
we  cried  "  Hold  !  Enough  !  "  She  held,  and  it  7e>as  enough. 
A  shilling  was  presented  ;  but  no,  she  had  done  business  too 
long,  and  her  distinguished  grandmother  before  her,  to  be  out- 
generalled  by  Yankees,  and  so  came  a  demand  for  more,  which 
was  refused.  Her  maiden-like  demure  condition  changed,  and 
we  left,  thinking  discretion  and  valor  were  synonymous  terms  ; 
and  she,  probably  of  the  same  opinion,  retired  to  try  her  luck 
with  the  next  coiner  that  way. 

And  dow  we  enter  the  Gap  of  Dunloe,  one  of  the  notable 
places  of  Ireland.     It  is  a  narrow,  wild,  and  romantic  mountain 


28  IRELAND. 

pass,  between  highlands  known  as  Macgillicuddy's  Reeks  on  the 
right,  and  Purple  Mountain  on  the  left.  The  length  of  the  pass 
is  about  four  miles,  and  the  road  is  circuitous  and  hilly.  At 
the  side,  and  at  times  crossing  it,  is  a  narrow  stream  called  the 
Loe,  at  as  many  places  expanded  into  five  small  lakes,  or  pools. 
The  mountain-sides  are  rocky  and  often  precipitous,  and  the 
road  is  here  and  there  little  more  than  a  cart-path,  winding 
right  and  left  romantically  between  these  hills,  from  which 
echoes  finely  the  sound  of  our  voices,  or  the  bugle  blown  or 
the  musket  fired  by  peasants  for  the  tourists'  amusement.  The 
journey  is  one  thrillingly  interesting,  and  about  the  only  one  of 
the  kind  that  can  be  made  on  the  island. 

One  of  the  five  lakes,  each  of  which  has  a  name,  is  called 
Black  Lough  ;  and  it  is  in  this  —  a  basin  some  one  hundred  feet 
long  and  thirty  feet  wide,  with  walls  of  stone,  partially  filled  with 
a  dark  water  —  that  St.  Patrick  is  said  to  have  banished  the  last 
snake.  The  guides  have  the  story  at  their  tongue's  end,  and 
glibly  relate  it  in  a  schoolboy-like  fashion,  never  tripping,  nor 
leading  one  to  so  much  as  surmise  that  they  have  not  told  the 
story  before. 

The  team  takes  us  but  a  short  distance  into  the  gap,  and  we 
avail  ourselves  of  animals  called  horses,  who  are  ever  on  hand 
for  the  purpose.  The  guides  owning  them  have  followed  us  for  a 
mile  or  more,  in  spite  of  our  protestations,  acting  as  though  they 
knew  we  should  hire  their  beasts,  although  we  had  with  busi- 
ness-like earnestness  told  them  that  we  thought  we  would  walk. 
These  animals  were  of  a  doubtful  nature,  that  would  confuse 
Darwin.  They  were  either  high-grade  mules  with  short  ears, 
or  low-grade  horses  with  long  ones.  We  finally  agreed  with 
the  owners,  paying  fifty  cents  each  for  the  what-is-its,  the  guides 
engaging  to  take  the  animals  back  when  we  were  done  with 
them. 

Emerging  from  the  gap  we  come  out  at  the  Black  Valley 
stretching  away  to  our  left,  and  hemmed  in,  amphitheatre-like, 
by  the  base  of  the  hills.  The  first  view  of  this  sombre  moor 
reminds  one  of  the  heath-pictures  in  "  Macbeth."  Kohl  says  of 
it :  "  Had  there  been  at  the  bottom,  among  the  rugged  masses 
of  black  rock,  some  smoke  and  flame  instead  of  water,  we  might 
have  imagined  we  were  looking  into  the  infernal  regions."  We 
ride  down  a  winding  road  in  the  great  amphitheatre,  and  along 
to  its  extremity,  and  are  at  the  end  of  our  journey  with  the 
horses  ;  and  now  we  are  to  walk  a  half-mile  through  a  footpath, 
over  fields  and  through  pleasant  groves,  to  the  once  fine  garden 


THE    LAKES.  29 

and  present  ruins  of  Lord  Brandon's  Cottage.  Here,  we  are 
at  the  upper  lake ;  and  our  boatmen,  by  arrangement  of  the 
hostess  at  Innisfallen  House,  were  there  awaiting  our  arrival  at 
i  p.  m.  They  had,  as  usual,  gone  direct  from  Killarney  to  the 
lower  lake,  and  had  rowed  over  that  and  the  two  others  to  this 
point,  having  made,  in  reversed  order,  the  tour  over  the  lakes 
we  are  to  take. 

At  1.30  p.  m.,  Thursday,  April  25,  we  are  in  the  row-boat  with 
our  two  oarsmen,  starting  from  the  shore  of  the  upper  lake  which 
is  the  smallest  of  the  three,  —  a  sheet  of  water  two  and  a  half  miles 
long,  three  fourths  of  a  mile  wide,  and  covering  430  acres,  being 
about  two  thirds  as  large  as  the  middle  lake,  and  only  a  little  more 
than  a  twelfth  as  large  as  the  lower  one.  And  here  we  must  say, 
what  of  choice  we  would  not  say,  that  in  most  instances,  where  the 
imagination  has  free  play,  realities  do  not  fulfil  anticipations. 

The  fulsome  and  unqualified  praises  which  have  been  be- 
stowed on  these  really  beautiful  and  justly  celebrated  lakes 
incline  one  to  expect  too  much,  and  to  overestimate  their 
sublimity.  This  element,  so  ever  present  on  the  lakes  of  Scot- 
land, is  here  often  lacking.  There  is,  however,  a  cleanliness  in 
the  remarkably  irregular  outline  of  their  shores,  and  a  beautiful 
decoration  made  by  varying  tinted  and  luxuriant  vegetation, 
that  largely  compensates  for  a  lack  of  vast  boldness,  and  of  great 
and  precipitous  rocky  walls  ;  and  enough  mountain  views  are 
in  the  near  distance  to  give  the  scenery  a  majestic  appearance, 
at  times  even  grand  in  general  effect.  The  heavy  woodlands, 
with  here  and  there  a  craggy  cliff,  as  at  the  Eagle's  Nest,  com- 
bine to  produce  a  charm  not  found  about  ordinary  lakes.  Yet 
it  must  in  justice  be  said  that  our  Lake  George,  and  parts  of 
Winnepiseogee,  are  their  equals. 

The  upper  lake,  at  its  westerly  end,  contains  twelve  islands, 
which  in  the  aggregate  cover  six  acres,  —  none  of  them,  how- 
ever, containing  more  than  one  acre,  and  some  of  them  less  than 
a  quarter  of  one.  McCarthy's  is  the  one  first  reached.  Arbu- 
tus is  another,  and  the  largest  in  the  lake.  It  takes  its  name 
from  the  shrub,  arbutus  unendo.  The  leaves  are  a  glossy  green, 
and  so  arranged  at  the  cuds  of  the  branches,  that  the  waxen, 
flesh  like  blossoms,  as  they  hang  in  graceful  racemes,  or  the 
later  crimson  fruit,  seem  embraced  by  a  mantle  of  the  richest 
verdure.  All  the  islands  abound  in  ivy,  and  the  rocks  and  trees 
are  often  thoroughly  bedecked  with  it.  This  lake  is  surely 
the  finest  of  the  three,  and  is  so  mainly  from  the  fad  of  its 
having    these   islands    and    the   great   irregularity  of  the  shore. 


30  IRELAND. 

embellished  by  the  beautiful  accompanying  foliage.  Being 
more  immediately  in  the  vicinity  of  the  highlands,  it  has  much 
of  stern  mountain  effect  and  grandeur.  From  some  points  of 
view  this  little  sheet  of  water  appears  to  be  entirely  land-locked. 
Towards  the  lower  end  it  becomes  narrow,  and  is  only  a  strip 
of  water  half  a  mile  long.  This  is  called  Newfoundland  Bay. 
On  from  this  it  is  a  yet  narrower  stream,  varying  from  thirty  to 
one  hundred  feet  wide,  and  two  miles  long,  which  is  the  con- 
necting part  with  the  middle  lake.  To  add  a  fascination,  and 
intensify  the  interest  of  the  tourist,  every  rock  of  respectable 
dimensions,  and  every  island  or  cove,  has  its  high-sounding 
name  ;  for  we  pass  Coleman's  Eye,  the  Man  of  War,  the  Four 
Friends.  We  now  arrive  at  the  Eagle's  Nest,  a  craggy  formation 
700  feet  above  the  water,  in  the  rugged  clefts  of  which  the  eagle 
builds  its  eyrie.  The  young  birds  are  taken  from  the  nest  be- 
tween the  middle  of  June  and  the  first  of  July,  and  the  rocks 
are  so  precipitous  that  the  nests  are  only  reached  by  means  of 
ropes  let  down  from  above. 

The  echoes  from  this  and  the  surrounding  rocks  are  very  fine, 
and  we  hear  them  grandly  repeated  from  hilltop  to  hilltop  — ■ 
ever  continued,  and  passed  on  with  a  clearly  perceptible  interval, 
till,  weaker  and  weaker  by  their  long,  rough  travel,  they  grow 
fainter,  and  at  last  melt  away  in  some  unknown  cavern,  or,  as 
it  were,  infinitely  distant  glen,  and  are  lost  in  the  great  realm  of 
nothingness  from  whence  they  came. 

Continuing  on,  we  reach  a  fairy- like  place,  the  Meeting  of 
Waters,  where  our  river,  arriving  at  the  middle  lake,  glides  to 
the  left  around  the  end  of  Dinish  Island,  which  reaches  from, 
and  is  bounded  by,  this  and  the  lower  lake.  Now  we  are  at  the 
Old  Weir  Bridge,  very  antiquated,  —  consisting  of  two  unequal 
arches,  through  which  the  water  rushes  with  great  earnestness 
and  force.  The  boatmen  do  nothing  but  guide  the  boat,  and  it 
is  a  moment  of  intense  interest  to  the  novice,  as  we  dash  under 
one  of  the  arches.  Soon  we  are  in  the  middle,  or,  as  it  is  called, 
the  Mucross,  or  Tore  Lake. 

This  contains  680  acres,  or  forty  more  than  a  square  mile.  The 
principal  islands  are  the  Dinish  and  the  Brickeen,  and  these  are 
in  fact  the  side  and  end  walls,  or  the  dividing  barrier  between  it 
and  the  lower  lake.  There  are  three  passages  between  them. 
This  lake  is  oblong  and  narrow.  In  a  line  nearly  straight  we  pass 
to  the  high,  Gothic,  single-arched  bridge  connecting  it  with  the 
lower  lake.  Brickeen  contains  19  acres,  and  is  twenty  or  more 
feet  up  from  the  lake,  and  well  wooded.     Dinish  is  also  well 


THE    LAKES.  31 

wooded.  It  contains  34  acres,  and  is  a  sort  of  watering-place. 
It  has  a  small,  rough,  rustic  stone  wharf;  also  a  cottage-hotel 
with  pleasure-grounds ;  and  by  making  previous  arrangements 
dinner  may  be  had. 

Our  provident  hostess,  having  an  eye  to  our  comfort  and 
another  to  her  income,  had  sent  by  the  boatmen  a  basket  of 
luncheon,  and  so  we  dined  on  the  lake  itself,  and  not  on  the 
shore  of  it.  Of  the  beauty  of  Tore  Lake  much  may  be  said.  It 
has  a  charm  peculiarly  its  own.  Shut  in  with  a  considerably 
uniform  wall-work  of  islands,  it  is  an  immense  pool  of  clear 
water,  in  which  the  overhanging  shrubbery  is  finely  reflected. 
Its  air  of  repose  and  quiet  beauty  makes  it  of  interest  to 
persons  of  a  retiring  nature,  and  those  to  whom  the  vastness  of 
mountain  scenery  does  not  so  pleasantly  appeal. 

We  now  pass  under  the  great  Gothic  arch  of  Brickeen  Bridge, 
and  are  in  Lough  Leane,  or  the  lower  lake.  It  has  an  area  of 
five  thousand  acres,  being  five  miles  long,  and  three  wide,  with 
a  very  irregular  shore,  comprising,  high  and  low  lands,  coves 
and  inlets,  a  few  mountain  recesses,  and  a  great  variety  of 
pleasing  scenery.  Its  islands  are  thirty  in  number,  few  of 
which,  however,  measure  more  than  an  acre  in  extent.  The 
largest  are  Rabbit  Island,  of  more  than  twelve  acres,  and  Innis- 
fallen,  of  twenty-one  acres.  Many  of  them  have  a  fancied 
resemblance  to  particular  things,  and  so  are  named  Lamb, 
Elephant,  Gun,  Horse,  Crow,  Heron,  Stag.  The  chief  beauties 
of  this  great  sheet  of  water  are  its  generally  placid  surface, 
the  mountains  bordering  it  on  the  south  and  west,  and  its 
unlikeness  to  either  of  the  others,  in  its  low  lands,  and  its 
estates  stretching  off  to  the  north  and  east.  It  abounds  in 
quiet  nooks,  bays,  and  inlets,  breaking  its  margin ;  and  the 
barren  rocks  on  one  side  contrast  finely  with  the  verdure  of 
the  shore  on  the  other. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  has  given  a  magic  charm  to  Loch  Katrine  by 
reciting  its  legends  ;  but,  had  he  been  so  disposed,  he  could 
have  given  a  like  halo  to  these  lakes,  for  legends  of  O'Donoghue 
and  of  the  McCarthys  abound,  and  supply  such  romantic  mate- 
rials as  few  countries  can  boast.  As  a  sample  we  quote  but 
one  :  — 

Once  in  seven  years,  on  a  fine  morning,  before  the  sun's  rays 
have  begun  to  disperse  the  mist  from  the  bosom  oi  the  lake, 
O'Donog  lue  comes  riding  over  it  on  an  elegant  snowwhite  horse, 
with  fairies  hovering  about  him,  and  strewing  his  path  with  (low- 
ers.   As  he  approaches  his  ancient  residence,  everything  resolves 


32  IRELAND. 

itself  into  its  original  condition  and  magnificence  ;  the  castle 
itself,  banquet  halls,  library,  his  prison,  and  his  pigeon  house,  are 
as  they  were  in  the  olden  time.  Any  one  who  desires,  and  is 
courageous  enough  to  follow  him  over  the  lake,  may  cross  even  the 
deepest  parts  dry-looted,  and  ride  with  him  into  the  caves  of  the 
adjoining  mountains,  where  his  treasures  are  deposited  and  con- 
cealed :  and  the  daring  visitor  will  receive  a  liberal  gift  for  his 
company  and  venture,  but  before  the  sun  has  arisen,  and  in  the 
early  twilight,  O'Donoghue  recrosses  the  water,  and  vanishes  amid 
the  ruins  of  the  castle,  to  be  seen  no  more  till  the  next  seven  years 
have  expired. 

The  part  of  the  lake  first  entered  is  called  Glena  Bay,  and  as 
the  opposite  shore,  some  three  miles  away,  is  low,  the  distant 
surface  of  the  lake  seems  to  melt  into  the  horizon,  producing  an 
effect  not  made  by  either  of  the  other  lakes.  Here  on  the  little 
bay's  shore  is  the  picturesque  cottage  of  Lady  Kenmare  ;  and 
in  the  woods  and  highlands,  which  for  a  couple  and  more  miles 
bound  the  western  shore  of  the  lake,  are  red  deer,  and  the 
place  was  once  a  famous  hunting-ground. 

We  pursue  our  course,  not  stopping  at  O'Sullivan's  Cascade, 
a  waterfall  consisting  of  three  sections,  situated  a  short  distance 
back  in  the  forest ;  nor  do  we  go  over  to  Innisfallen  Island, 
distant  but  two  miles  to  our  left  and  in  full  view,  though  it  is 
remarkably  interesting  on  account  of  historical  associations. 

Of  all  the  islands  of  the  lakes  it  is  the  most  picturesque  and 
beautiful.  It  contains  glades  and  lawns,  thickets  of  flowering 
shrubs  and  evergreens,  with  an  abundance  of  arbutus  and  hol- 
lies of  great  size  and  beauty,  and  also  oak  and  ash  trees  of 
magnificent  foliage  and  growth.  Innisfallen  contains  about 
twenty-one  acres,  and  commands  one  of  the  most  desirable  and 
lovely  views  of  the  entire  lake  and  surrounding  mountain  scen- 
ery. The  most  interesting  object  on  it,  however,  is  the  grand 
ruin  of  the  ancient  abbey,  founded  in  the  year  600,  by  St. 
Finian. 

In  this  celebrated  place  the  strange  and  interesting  "  Annals 
of  Innisfallen  "  were  composed.  They  contain  fragments  of  the 
Old  Testament,  and  a  compendious,  though  not  very  valuable, 
annual  history  down  to  the  time  of  St.  Patrick,  and  one  more 
perfect  from  the  fourth  to  the  fourteenth  century.  The  origi- 
nals, written  more  than  five  hundred  years  ago,  are  now  in  the 
Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford.  A  translation  of  this  work  has  been 
repeatedly  attempted,  but  has  never  been  far  enough  advanced 
to  issue  from  the  press.     The  Annals  are  a  special  record  of 


THE    LAKES.  33 

Munster,  but  are  filled  with  a  dry  record  of  great  crimes  and 
their  punishment,  wars,  lists  of  princes  and  clergy,  and  elaborate 
accounts  of  the  disputes  and  violent  deaths  of  the  ancient  kings 
of  Kerry.  They  record  that  in  1 180,  seven  hundred  years  ago, 
the  abbey  was  the  place  of  securest  deposit  for  all  the  gold  and 
silver,  and  the  rare  and  rich  goods  of  the  country ;  that  it  was 
plundered  by  Mildwin,  son  of  Daniel  O'Donoghue,  as  was  also 
the  church  of  Ardfert ;  and  that  many  persons  were  slain  in 
the  cemetery  of  the  McCarthys. 

In  parting,  the  temptation  is  resistless  to  quote  the  lines  of 
Moore  relating  to  this  renowned  and  beautiful  place  :  — 

Sweet  Innisfallen,  fare  thee  well, 
May  calm  and  sunshine  long  be  thine  ; 
How  fair  thou  art,  let  others  tell, 
While  but  to  feel  how  fair  be  mine. 

Sweet  Innisfallen,  long  shall  dwell 
In  memory's  dream  that  sunny  smile, 
Which  o'er  thee,  on  that  evening  fell, 
When  first  I  saw  thy  fairy  isle. 

We  next  pass  on  towards  our  place  of  landing.  Before  us 
and  not  far  off  is  Ross  Island,  situated  on  the  eastern  shore  of 
the  lake.  It  is  not  really  an  island,  but  a  peninsula,  which  at 
times  of  high  water,  however,  is  difficult  to  reach  without  cross- 
ing a  bridge.  The  place  has  a  finished  look,  having  good  lawns 
and  many  well-kept  avenues  and  walks.  In  1804  a  copper 
mine  was  opened  on  it,  and  for  a  time  afforded  a  large  quantity 
of  rich  ore.  Croker  asserts  that  during  the  four  years  it  was 
worked,  $400,000  worth  of  ore  was  disposed  of  at  Swansea,  at 
a  valuation  of  $200  per  ton,  and  he  informs  us  that  "  several 
small  veins  of  oxide  of  copper  split  off  the  main  lode  and  ran 
towards  the  surface.  The  ore  of  these  veins  was  much  more 
valuable  than  the  other,  and  consequently  the  miners  —  who 
were  paid  for  the  quality  as  well  as  quantity  —  opened  the 
smaller  veins  so  near  the  surface  that  water  broke  through  into 
the  mine,  in  such  an  overwhelming  degree  that  an  engine  of 
thirty-horse  power  could  make  no  impression  on  the  inunda- 
tion." The  work  was  then  abandoned.  No  doubt  exists  that 
these  mines  had  been  worked  in  times  of  antiquity,  perhaps 
by  the  Danes;  for  while  working  them  in  1804,  rude  stone 
hammers  were  found,  and  other  unequivocal  proofs  of  pre- 
occupation at  an  early  time. 

Ross  Castle  is  a  commanding  and  conspicuous  object,  stand- 
ing isolated  near  the  shore,  on  comparatively  level  land.     It  is 

3 


o4  IRELAND. 

visible  from  almost  every  part  of  the  lake.  This  castle  is  gen- 
erally visited  from  the  land,  and  is  less  than  two  miles  from  the 
town  of  KUlarney.      Though  now  in  ruins,  it  has  a  massive 

square  tower  and  appendages  of  considerable  size,  and  is  of 
pleasing  outline.  The  dark  stone  walls,  are  in  good  preserva- 
tion, and  well  decorated  with  ivy,  which  gives  the  ruin  a  most 
stately,  yet  romantic  and  picturesque  effect. 

The  grounds  are  well  kept,  and  are  free  to  the  public ; 
though  a  small  optional  fee  is  in  order  to  the  lass  who  comes 
out  of  her  cottage  near  by,  unlocks  the  door  of  the  great  tower, 
and,  with  a  tongue  not  very  glib,  tells  what  little  she  knows  of 
local  history.  The  castle  was  built  by  the  O'Donoghues,  and 
was  long  occupied  by  that  celebrated  family.  In  1652  it  was 
well  defended  ;  at  the  Revolution  it  held  out  long  against  the 
English  invaders,  and  was  the  last  one  in  Munster  to  surrender. 
On  the  26th  of  July  of  that  year  Lord  Muskerry,  then  holding  a 
commission  of  colonel  under  the  Irish,  being  hard  pushed, 
occupied  the  castle,  and  defended  himself  against  Lord  Ludlow  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  he  brought  vessels  of  war  (in  history  called 
shifts)  by  the  lake,  that  the  surrender  was  made.  An  old  legend 
existed,  —  and  legends  are  powerful  for  good  or  for  ill,  —  that 
Ross  Castle  was  impregnable  till  ships  of  war  attacked  it. 
These  were  brought,  it  may  be,  to  take  advantage  of  the  super- 
stition. When  they  were  in  view,  the  heart  of  the  inmates  of 
the  fortress  failed ;  they  were  paralyzed  with  superstitious  fear, 
and  could  not  be  induced  to  strike  another  blow.  Lord 
Ludlow,  in  his  Memoirs,  thus  tells  the  story :  — 

We  had  received  our  boats  [these  were  probably  the  ships\ 
each  of  which  was  capable  of  containing  one  hunched  and  twenty 
men.  I  ordered  one  of  them  to  be  rowed  about  the  water,  in  order 
to  find  out  the  most  convenient  place  for  landing  upon  the  enemy, 
which  they  perceiving,  thought  fit,  by  timely  submission,  to  prevent 
the  danger  threatened  them. 

After  the  surrender  five  thousand  Munster  men  laid  down 
their  arms,  and  Lord  Broghill,  who  had  accompanied  Ludlow, 
received  a  grant- of  ^1,000  ($5,000)  yearly  out  of  the  estate  of 
Lord  Muskerry,  the  defender  of  the  castle. 

We  have  ended  our  tour  over  the  lakes,  and  have  visited 
these  justly  celebrated  ruins,  and  are  now  ready  for  a  walk  of 
three  quarters  of  an  hour  to  our  hotel  at  Killarney.  To  say 
that  we  enjoyed  the  day,  even  beyond  our  most  sanguine  an- 
ticipations, would   not   overcolor  the  picture.      The   drive  of 


THE    LAKES.  35 

the  morning  through  that  sublime  old  scenery,  to  us  so  new ; 
the  ever  fresh  and  pleasing  emotions  continually  awakened ;  the 
romantic  ride  through  the  Gap  of  Dunloe,  where  the  mountains 
are  so  near  us,  and  we  so  near  them ;  Kate's  cottage  ;  the 
Inferno-like  look  of  the  Black  Valley ;  the  walk  to  the  upper 
lake,  and  the  fairy-like  sail  over  its  waters,  —  all  these  recol- 
lections are  enough  for  one  day.  At  6  p.  m.,  as  the  sun  de- 
clined, and  the  mellow  tints  of  its  evening  rays  were  thrown 
aslant  the  waters,  we  wended  our  way  home.  Yet  were  we  not 
entirely  content,  but  must  make  one  more  tour,  this  time  to 
Muckross  Abbey. 


36  IRELAND. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MUCKROSS   ABBEY  —  LIMERICK  —  DUBLIN. 

THE  time  for  visiting  Muckross  Abbey  is  most  auspicious, 
the  sun  being  still  above  the  horizon ;  and  the  approach- 
ing tranquillity  befits  a  trip  of  the  kind.  The  ruins  we 
have  before  inspected  have  been  castles,  or  fort-like  struc- 
tures, designed  as  a  home  for  some  royal  family,  yet  sufficiently 
strong  and  impregnable  to  ward  off  the  attacks  of  a  formidable 
enemy.  What  we  are  now  to  see  is  not  a  place  designed  for 
ease,  comfort,  and  defence  against  ill  conditions  in  this  life,  but 
rather  to  ensure  pleasure  and  safety  in  the  life  to  come. 

The  spot  is  about  five  miles  from  Killamey,  and  owned  by 
Mr.  Herbert,  a  gentleman  held  in  the  highest  esteem  by  rich 
and  poor.  There  is  a  neat  gate-lodge,  beyond  which  the 
visitor  finds  gratuitous  admission  at  any  hour  before  6  P.  M.  ; 
after  that,  and  properly  enough,  a  shilling  is  due  to  the  gate- 
keeper. Our  team  left  outside  the  gate,  we  pass  through  a 
grand  avenue,  and  soon  opens  to  view  one  of  the  finest  and 
most  enchanting  mediaeval  ruins  to  be  found  in  Ireland,  — 
exquisitely  interesting  in  every  part,  and  beyond  the  power  of 
any  one  to  adequately  describe.  The  ruins  are  on  a  large  knoll, 
surrounded  by  trees,  conspicuous  among  which  is  the  yew.  These 
trees  are  formed  much  like  large  cedars,  and  resemble  them  in 
general  outline  ;  but  the  foliage  is  dark-green,  so  dark  as  at  first 
sight  to  appear  almost  black.  The  branches  are  very  large,  and 
spread  out  into  fiat  or  fan-like  masses,  to  near  the  ground. 

The  abbey  was  founded  in  1140,  and  is  now  742  years  old. 
As  we  examine  it,  and  more  especially  an  ancient  yew-tree,  sur- 
rounded by  the  cloisters,  known  to  have  been  there  for  more  than 
600  years,  we  are  deeply  impressed  with  the  thought  that  we 
are  communing  with  things  relating  to  long  past  generations.  It 
had  its  last  repairs  in  1602,  was  soon  after  abandoned,  and  is 
now  without  a  roof,  but  is  otherwise  in  good  preservation.  The 
ruins  are  very  large  and  varied.  They  consist  of  both  an  abbey 
and  a  church.  The  cloisters  belong  to  the  former,  and  form  a 
stone  colonnade,  some  ten  feet  wide,  connected  by  the  arches 


MUCKROSS   ABBEY.  37 

with  the  open-to-the-sky  area,  some  seventy-five  feet  square,  in 
the  centre  of  which  stands  the  venerable  yew  already  mentioned. 

In  the  retirement  and  obscurity  of  these  cloisters,  walked  and 
meditated  and  prayed  hundreds,  —  and  in  the  large  aggregate 
of  years  it  may  be  thousands,  —  to  whom  no  other  spot  on  the 
broad  earth  was,  in  their  judgment,  so  good  and  befitting  for 
their  pious  purpose.  Here  for  centuries  piety  intensified,  was 
transformed  into  superstition,  germinated,  blossomed,  and  fruited. 

The  different  rooms  of  the  abbey  are  still  in  good  preserva- 
tion, the  entire  structure  being  of  masonry.  The  kitchen,  with 
its  immense  fireplace,  appears  as  it  was  centuries  ago ;  and  a 
little  room  about  six  feet  square  in  one  of  the  towers,  and  open- 
ing out  of  the  kitchen,  was  occupied  for  eleven  years  as  a 
sleeping-room  by  the  hermit,  John  Drake,  a  hundred  or  more 
years  ago.  His  patriarchal  demeanor  and  solemn  yet  cheerful 
aspect  obtained  for  him  a  people's  veneration,  and  his  piety  and 
general  seclusion  excited  general  interest.  To  this  day  he  is 
spoken  of  with  scarcely  less  esteem  than  would  be  one  of  the 
early  monks  of  the  abbey  itself.  The  floors  of  the  rooms  in  the 
second  story,  the  building  being  roofless,  are  well  overgrown 
with  the  finest  lawn  grass.  As  one  walks  thoughtfully  up  the 
narrow,  winding,  stone  stairs,  into  the  dormitory,  hospital,  lava- 
tory and  other  apartments,  —  in  all  but  few  in  number,  —  the 
solid  and  venerable  walls,  the  open  sky  above  him,  and  the 
green  grass  (emblematic  of  human  life  in  its  best  estate)  be- 
neath his  feet,  —  under  the  influence  of  these,  in  spite  of  himself 
he  becomes  absorbed  in  meditation,  and  holds  communion  with 
those  who  lived  and  labored  here  centuries  ago,  and  at  length 
passed  on  to  "  the  house  appointed  for  all  the  living." 

Reluctantly  we  left  the  abbey,  and  walked  through  the  an- 
tique passage-ways  and  cramped  stone  stairway  down  into  the 
church,  where,  in  the  midst  of  singular  beauty,  were  the  un- 
welcome evidences  of  inevitable  decay.  Here  are  the  roofless 
walls  of  the  nave,  choir,  and  transept ;  here  are  windows  elegant 
in  design,  with  their  stone  traceries  yet  perfect.  In  places,  the 
friendly,  sombre  ivy  is  spread,  like  a  kind  mantle  of  charity, 
covering  defects  of  broken  wall,  and  disguising  the  empty  place 
of  some  fallen  stone. 

"  How  old  all  material  is,"  we  instinctively  say ;  and  yet 
how  new  the  results  of  labor,—  the  vine,  the  shrub,  the  tire. 
How  velvety  and  carpet-like  is  the  grass  on  parts  of  this  very 
ll'v.r.  once  pressed  by  tin-  toil-worn,  blistered  tret  of  pious 
penance-doers,   and    even    now    a    place    of   deposit    lor    thru 


38  IRELAND. 

mouldering  bodies.  Instead  of  desk  or  altar  or  font,  of  kingly 
>tall  or  peasant's  seat,  are  ancient  mural  stones.  Here  are 
monuments,  the  outward  tokens  of  reverence  and  respect  for 
the  blue  blood  of  royalty,  or  the  saintship  of  those  who  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago  —  their  work  done,  the  checkered  scenes  of 
life  over  —  went  down  to  the  "silent  mansions  of  the  dead." 

In  the  piscina,  in  the  lavatory,  in  the  place  for  sacred  vessels, 
the  swallow  unscared  builds  its  nest ;  and  along  the  altar-steps  the 
li/.ard  crawls,  or  basks  in  the  sunshine  unalarmed.  Here  sleep 
in  their  low,  common  —  and  yet  uncommon  —  resting-places, 
they  of  the  old  dispensation,  side  by  side  with  men  of  the  new. 
O'Sullivan,  O'Donohue,  Mc'Carthy  —  nobles  and  kings  of  ] Mini- 
ster, before  whom  the  multitude  trembled  and  reverentially 
bowed  —  mingle  their  dust  with  nineteenth-century  leaders. 

An  incident,  showing  a  notable  instance  of  faithfulness  in  the 
performance  of  an  agreement,  may  be  related.  At  the  time  of 
the  surrender  of  these  ruins,  it  was  stipulated  that,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  fact  of  their  being  the  repository  of  dust  so  peculiar 
and  sacred,  no  Protestant  should  ever  be  buried  within  these 
walls  ;  and  while  it  would  otherwise  have  been  the  choice  of 
the  late  owner  of  the  premises  —  Mr.  Herbert  the  elder,  Mem- 
ber of  Parliament  for  Kerry  and  Chief  Secretary  of  Ireland  —  to 
be  here  buried,  this  was  not  done.  On  elevated  grounds  outside 
the  abbey  precincts,  a  very  large,  ornamental,  mediaeval,  gran- 
ite cross  was  erected  by  subscription  of  both  Catholics  and 
Protestants  as  a  mark  of  love  and  esteem  for  him  whom  they 
call  "  One  of  the  best  of  men." 

Muckross  Abbey  Mansion,  not  far  away,  the  seat  of  H.  A. 
Herbert,  Esq.,  the  present  owner  of  the  grounds,  is  a  fine  stone 
building,  of  Elizabethan  architecture.  We  knew  of  the  Tore 
Cascade  not  far  off;  but  as  darkness  had  imperceptibly  come 
upon  us,  and  we  were  informed  that  little  water  was  then  pass- 
ing over  the  fall,  we  did  not  go  there,  but  listened  to  a  descrip- 
tion from  our  guide,  who  told  us  that  the  waters  are  precipitated 
in  a  sheet  of  splendid  foam  over  a  ledge  of  rocks,  breaking  into 
mist  and  spray  ;  that  the  volume  of  water  then  resumes  its  hur- 
ried course  through  a  deep  ravine,  narrow  and  irregular,  through 
groups  of  fir  and  pine  trees,  and  at  last  crosses  the  beautiful 
pleasure-grounds,  till  it  falls  into  Muckross  Lake. 

At  no  time  shall  we  probably  have  a  more  appropriate  place 
to  speak  of  the  mountains  of  Ireland  ;  and,  at  the  risk  of  being 
charged  with  digression,  we  make  the  venture.  Ireland  is  not 
a  prairie-like  country ;  yet,  though  for  the  most  parts  hilly  and 


LIMERICK.  39 

undulatory,  it  cannot  be  called  mountainous.  In  this  vicinity  are 
the  principal  mountains  of  the  Emerald  Isle.  It  was  for  a  Jong 
time  thought  that  Mangerton,  of  the  Macgillicuddy's  Reeks,  was 
the  highest  peak  in  Ireland,  but  a  late  survey  makes  Carrantual, 
of  the  same  range,  the  highest.  They  are  respectively  2,756 
and  3,414  feet  high.  For  the  aid  of  those  who  may  not  be  able 
to  judge  heights  readily,  yet  are  familiar  with  our  New  England 
mountains,  we  will  say  that  the  Grand  Monadnock,  at  Jaffrey, 
N.  H.,  is  3,186  feet  high,  and  the  Wachusett,  at  Princeton, 
Mass.,  2,018  feet.  The  distance  from  Muckross  to  the  summit 
of  Carrantual  is  not  far  from  five  miles.  The  ascent  is  easy, 
and  may  be  made  with  horses.  Four  miles  from  Muckross  is 
what  is  called  the  Devil's  Punch  Bowl,  a  tarn  or  mountain  lake, 
2.206  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  more  than  two  thousand 
feet  above  the  surface  of  the  lakes,  they  being  not  far  from  two 
hundred  feet  above  sea-level.  It  is  an  ovalish  basin  contain- 
ing about  twenty-eight  acres,  being  two  thirds  the  size  of 
Boston  Common,  the  latter  having  within  its  fence  lines  an  area 
of  a  few  feet  over  forty-three  and  three  fourths  acres.  On  all 
sides  of  the  tarn  are  shelving  cliffs.  History  has  it  that  C.  J. 
Fox  swam  entirely  around  it  in  1772.  Purple  Mountain,  oppo- 
site Macgillicuddy's  Reeks,  with  the  Gap  of  Dunloe  between,  is 
somewhat  lower  than  these,  but  we  have  not  the  figures  of  its 
elevation.  After  our  visit  to  the  abbey,  we  returned  to  the 
hotel  —  in  name  only,  Innisfallen  —  and  remained  over  night. 
Having  breakfasted,  valise  in  hand  we  wended  our  way  back 
through  the  village  streets  to  the  railroad  station,  and  took 
passage  to  Limerick. 

"  And  sure,"  says  the  reader,  "  that  is  another  Irish  city,  and 
no  mistake,"  and  you  are  right.  Our  ride  was  exceedingly 
pleasant.  The  country  was  at  its  best,  so  far  as  vegetation  was 
concerned,  —  especially  its  grass,  for  cattle-raising  is  the  gen- 
eral farm  occupation  of  the  people.  Here  and  there  was  a 
patch  of  potatoes,  but  no  fruit-trees,  and  few  good  vegetable 
gardens.  There  were  no  stone  walls  or  fences  ;  if  there  were 
any  land  divisions  they  were  hedges,  and  few  at  that. 

The  more  one  travels  in  foreign  countries,  the  more  he  is 
convinced  of  the  lolly  of  so  much  fence-work  as  we  have  on 
New  England  tanas.  It  is  a  waste  of  labor  ami  material,  an 
abuse  of  the  ground  itself,  and  a  loss  of  the  land,  usually  un- 
cultivated, lying  close  against  the  partitions;  and.  in  addition, 
the  shade  is  objectionable.  Of  course  some  divisions  are  needed  ; 
but  many  of  them  exist,  as  a  necessity,  only  in  the  farmer's 


40  IRELAND. 

imagination.  There  are  but  few  New  England  farms  where  a 
large  amount  of  labor  and  time  are  not  worse  than  wasted  in 
repairs  of  cross  walls,  set  up  by  our  fathers  and  grandfathers, 

which  would  be  used  to  a  much  better  purpose  if  employed  in 
their  demolition. 

LIMERICK. 

After  a  ride  of  five  hours,  having  on  the  way  passed  back 
through  Mallow,  we  arrived  in  Limerick,  where  we  took  rooms 
at  the  Royal  George  Hotel.  Valises  deposited,  and  the  usual 
toilet  operations  gone  through  with,  we  walk  out  to  see  this 
place,  so  like  Cork  and  Dublin.  Limerick  is  the  capital  of  the 
county  of  Limerick.  It  is  on  a  narrow  arm  of  the  sea,  or  mouth 
of  the  River  Shannon,  with  a  population  of  49,670.  It  con- 
sists of  an  English  town,  built  on  an  island  of  the  Shannon,  and 
also  an  Irish  one  ;  and  it  has  a  suburb  called  Newton  Perry,  on 
the  left  bank  of  the  river.  These  three  portions  are  connected  by 
five  bridges,  one  of  which,  the  Wellesley  Bridge,  cost  $425,000. 

We  were  pleasantly  surprised  with  the  appearance  of  the  place, 
with  the  cleanness  of  the  streets,  and  their  good  pavements, 
and  the  general  order  and  substantial  condition  of  all  we 
saw.  We  speak  now  of  the  English  portion,  which  is  in  fact 
the  larger  and  principal  division  of  the  place.  The  surface 
is  level,  and  the  buildings  are  mostly  of  dark-colored  brick. 
They  are  generally  three  or  four  stories  high,  without  decoration, 
save  simple  brick  cornices  and  arched  doorways  to  the  houses. 
There  are  solid  and  plainly  finished  fronts  to  the  stores.  The 
streets  are  of  strikingly  uniform  appearance,  presenting  only 
here  and  there  anything  to  attract  notice.  It  has  its  slums 
like  Cork  ;  but  of  these  we  need  not  speak  now. 

We  next  begin  our  walk  to  the  cathedral,  for  this  was  the  first 
of  the  cathedrals  we  had  reached.  The  greater  part  of  the 
edifice,  as  it  now  stands,  was  built  during  the  twelfth  and  thir- 
teenth centuries,  and  so  is  six  hundred  years  old.  We  readily 
found  it,  and  came  to  one  of  the  iron  gates  leading  to  the  burial- 
ground  in  front  of  it.  The  dark  and  antiquated  look  of  the  old, 
massive  structure  impressed  us  favorably,  and  touched  the  right 
chord.  We  had  seen  castles  and  abbeys  in  fine  ruin,  but  they 
belonged  to  a  dead  past.  We  were  hungering  for  something 
ancient  in  which  the  living  present  was  playing  its  part,  and 
nothing  feeds  this  hunger  so  well  as  a  cathedral,  especially 
those  that,  at  the  Reformation,  passed  over  from  Catholicism  to 
Protestantism,  as  this  has  done. 


LIMERICK.  41 

After  demonstrations  at  the  iron  gate  the  verger  soon  appeared, 
coming  from  the  cathedral  tower  some  hundred  or  more  feet 
away.  This  burial-ground  is  the  principal  way  of  access  to  the 
cathedral,  and  has  good  walks  from  the  gates  to  the  edifice. 
The  entire  ground,  perhaps  a  half-acre  in  extent,  is  neat  and 
well  kept,  and  has  many  ancient-looking  gravestones  and  low 
slab-monuments.  Our  verger  was  a  portly  man  of  some  sixty 
years,  a  master  of  the  situation.  An  adept  at  the  business,  he 
soon  understood  our  case  and  our  nationality,  and  we  thought 
we  understood  him.  Both  parties  being  in  good  humor  and 
knowing  their  business,  we  proceeded  from  point  to  point  over 
the  edifice,  he  all  the  time  trying  to  earn  his  fee  of  a  shilling 
each,  and  we  aiding  him  as  best  we  could,  by  seeming  to  pay 
respectful  attention,  yet  doing  as  much  thinking  outside  of  his 
thoughts  as  we  chose,  and  in  our  own  way. 

The  cathedral  is  large  and  imposing  to  view  from  the  outside, 
irregular  in  outline,  and  antique-looking  in  the  extreme.  It  is 
built  of  a  dark-dinged,  brownish  colored  stone,  and  is  of  Gothic 
architecture.  It  has  a  tower  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  high, 
but  no  spire  above  it.  At  the  time  of  our  visit  the  building  was 
under  process  of  extensive  restorations  of  the  interior. 

There  are  many  ancient  monuments  in  the  various  parts  of 
the  building,  some  of  them  centuries  old.  It  would  be  interest- 
ing to  allude  freely  to  them,  but  our  limits  will  not  permit.  One 
illustration  must  suffice,  and  that  is  quoted  for  its  simplicity  and 
quaintness.  It  was  read  off  by  our  guide  with  a  promptness 
and  precision,  both  of  words  and  declamation,  that  suggested 
familiarity,  and  that  we  were  by  no  means  the  first  who  had 
heard  it. 

Memento  Mory 

Here  Lieth  Littell  Samvell 

Barington  that  great  vnder 

taker  of  famiovs  cittis 

Clock  and  chims  maker 

he  made  his  one  time  goe 

brly  and  latter  bvt  now 

he  is  retvrned  to  god  his  cre 

ATOR 

The  19  of  November  then  he 
Scf.st  AND  to  HIS  memory 
This   HERE   is   11. EAST  BY  HIS 

Son  Ben  1693. 

After  ,-i  good  examination  of  the  venerable  edifice  and  its 
appendages  below,  we  ascended  the  tower,  our  verger  accom- 


42  IRELAND. 

panying,  —  for  which  an  extra  shilling  each  must  be  paid.  From 
here  we  had  an  admirable  view  of  the  city ;  but  nothing  seen 
from  above,  or  inside  the  cathedral  below,  interested  us  more 
than  the  chime  of  bells  in  the  tower.  Wherever  the  English 
language  is  spoken,  these  bells  receive  honorable  mention,  for 
it  is  these  to  which  reference  is  made  in  that  plaintive  but 
sweet  poetry,  —  and  who  has  not  sympathized  with  its  senti- 
ment ?  — 

"  Those  evening  bells,  those  evening  bells, 
How  many  a  tale  their  music  tells." 

There  are  eight  of  them,  each  hung  with  a  wheel  to  aid  its 
ringing.  Four  of  them  are  old,  and  the  others  comparatively 
new.     The  largest  weighs  about  three  thousand  pounds. 

Having  said  something  in  regard  to  the  business  part  of  the 
city  and  cathedral,  we  next  take  a  look  at  other  parts  of  the 
former,  and  consider  a  few  items  of  history.  Newton  Perry,  the 
new  section,  contains  wide  streets  and  promenades,  and  on  these 
are  fine  residences  of  wealthy  inhabitants,  many  of  whom  are 
merchants  doing  business  in  the  city  proper,  which  we  will  now 
speak  of.  George  Street,  a  grand  thoroughfare,  continues  on 
one  side  through  Richmond  Place  to  the  Military  Walk,  and 
on  the  other  along  Patrick  Street,  through  Rutland  Street,  to 
Matthew  Bridge  —  named  in  honor  of  Father  Matthew,  the 
apostle  of  Temperance.  Henry  and  Catherine  streets  are  also 
important.  In  Perry  Square  is  a  column  surmounted  by  a  statue 
to  Lord  Monteagle,  and  in  Richmond  Place  there  is  a  bronze 
statue  of  Daniel  O'Connell.  St.  John's  Cathedral,  Roman  Cath- 
olic, completed  in  i860,  is  a  Gothic  edifice,  erected  at  a  cost  of 
$85,000. 

The  principal  industries  of 'the  place  are  the  manufacture  of 
flax,  army-clothing,  lace,  and  gloves.  The  city  carries  on  an 
extensive  traffic,  and,  having  hundreds  of  well-stocked  stores, 
it  is  the  wholesale  as  well  as  retail  market  for  towns  of  the 
vicinity.  There  is  at  the  border  of  the  city  the  remains  of  a 
castle  built  in  the  time  of  King  John,  a  somewhat  dilapidated, 
but  still  noble  structure.  It  has  seven  massive  towers,  which 
are  connected  by  a  wall  of  great  thickness,  and  affords  an  ex- 
ample of  the  best  Norman  strongholds  of  the  country,  if  not 
of  the  world,  and  inside  the  castle  walls  are  buildings  used  as 
barracks. 

The  castle  is  situated  in  the  Irish  part  of  the  city.  Here  are 
narrow  and  unclean   streets,  and  a  low  grade  of  population, 


LIMERICK.  43 

many  of  whom  live  in  destitution ;  though,  so  far  as  degrada- 
tion is  concerned,  we  found  less  than  in  Cork.  What  struck  us 
forcibly  in  this  section  was  the  number  of  buildings  —  one  or 
two,  and  even  three  stories  high  —  dilapidated,  abandoned,  and 
without  roofs.  They  were  the  rule  and  not  the  exception. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  dislike  on  the  part  of  owners  to  take 
down  an  old  house  ;  but  when,  in  the  last  extremity,  it  became 
absolutely  unfit  for  a  day's  more  occupancy,  they  preferred  to 
abandon  it,  and  let  it  tumble  down  piecemeal.  On  the  floors, 
in  holes  in  the  walls,  about  the  chimneys,  weeds  were  growing, 
and  especially  the  not  inappropriately  named  snapdragon.  Fine 
specimens  of  these,  of  all  the  usual  colors,  were  in  full  bloom 
and  growing  luxuriantly. 

Having  spoken  of  the  Irish  and  English  parts  of  Ireland,  an 
explanation  may  be  in  order.  Soon  after  the  union  of  the  two 
countries  at  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  English 
people  of  wealth  and  influence  established  themselves  in  the 
principal  cities  of  Ireland.  They  built  stores  and  dwelling- 
houses,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  now  two  thirds  of  each  large 
city  are  occupied  by  English  people,  the  Irish  inhabitants  re- 
maining in  their  old  quarters.  This  large  preponderance  of 
English  influence  and  life  gives  to  Ireland's  large  cities  an 
English  look,  and  it  is  only  when  one  enters  the  Irish  part  that 
he  feels  he  is  not  in  an  English  town.  This  is  notably  true  of 
Cork,  Limerick,  Dublin,  and  other  southern  cities  ;  while  Belfast 
and  Londonderry,  at  the  north,  have  had  so  much  commerce 
and  exchange  of  thought  with  Scotland  as  well  as  England,  as 
almost  to  transform  their  citizens  into  English  people. 

In  Limerick  may  be  seen  Norman  walls  and  remains  in  abund- 
ance, some  of  them  a  thousand  years  old.  The  harbor  is  suffi- 
ciently capacious  to  accommodate  a  large  amount  of  shipping, 
and  extends  a  mile  along  the  river,  which  has  a  breadth  of  four 
hundred  and  fifty  feet,  with  here  and  there  a  semi-basin  or 
dock. 

Limerick  was  the  last  place  of  Ireland  which  surrendered  to 
English  rule,  and  only  submitted  to  the  Parliamentarians,  under 
Ireton  in  165 1,  after  a  determined  resistance  and  gallant  de- 
fence. During  a  siege  in  169 1  a  large  gun  was  planted  on  the 
top  of  the  cathedral  tower,  and  rendered  most  effectual  service. 
"  Muscular  Christianity"  was  then  at  a  premium.  The  old  city 
has  experienced  and  withstood  many  sieges,  the  last  of  which 
were  those  under  Cromwell  and  William  III.  After  several 
repulses,  William,  in   1691,  offered   advantageous  terms  to  the 


44  IRELAND. 

besieged  which  were  accepted  by  the  troops  then  under  the 
command  of  Sarsfield,  Marl  of  Lucen,  and  the  surrender  was 
made  to  General  De  Ginkle.  Part  of  the  treaty  was  signed  here, 
on  a  stone  now  called  the  Treaty  Stone  which,  for  safety  and  as 
a  monument  of  interest,  is  now  kept  on  a  pedestal  at  the  end  of 
Thomond  Bridge.  The  treaty  guaranteed  to  Roman  Catholics 
certain  religious  privileges  and  rights,  and  promised  amnesty  to 
all  who  took  the  oath  of  allegiance  ;  but  it  was  afterwards,  to  the 
disgrace  of  the  victors,  recklessly  broken,  especially  in  regard 
to  the  points  first  named,  and  to  this  day  the  place  is  called 
"  the  city  of  the  broken  treaty." 

Limerick  has  from  time  immemorial  been  a  military  seat, 
and  is  now  the  headquarters  of  the  southwest  military  district. 
Anciently  it  was  the  royal  residence  of  the  Irish  kings. 

There  are  within  the  limits  of  the  city  over  twenty  places  of 
worship.  It  has  many  charitable  and  educational  institutions, 
and  much  enterprise  and  business  activity.  Save  the  old  and 
slummish  portion,  which  is  not  of  very  great  extent,  and  is  under 
comparatively  good  control,  it  has  a  thoroughly  English  look, 
or,  perhaps  we  may  say,  an  old  American  look.  We  greatly  en- 
joyed our  visit,  and  were  happily  disappointed ;  for  our  minds 
were  disabused  of  opinions  we  before  erroneously  entertained, 
and  supposed  to  be  true,  concerning  this  famous  city. 

DUBLIN. 

At  1.30  p.  M.,  on  Friday,  April  26,  we  left  for  Dublin,  and 
after  a  ride  of  four  hours  reached  that  city.  The  landscape 
on  the  way  was  interesting,  though  not  presenting  anything 
very  picturesque  or  romantic.  We  were,  however,  continually 
impressed  with  the  fact  that  Ireland  is  well  named  the  Emerald 
Isle  ;  for  not  a  bare  acre  is  to  be  seen,  and  over  hill  and  dale 
luxuriant  vegetation  is  found. 

We  could  but  feel  sorry  that  the  laws  of  primogeniture  and 
entailment  of  property  yet  prevail,  and  that  England  thus  de- 
prives herself  and  poor  Ireland,  her  disconsolate  child,  of  the 
rich  blessings  of  an  interested  and  land-loving,  as  well  as  soil- 
working  people.  The  land  is  owned  by  a  few  lords.  Estates 
must  be  kept  entire,  and  so  handed  down  through  the  male 
heirs  from  generation  to  generation.  No  absolute  sale  is  pos- 
sible, and  a  homestead  can  rarely  be  bought.  The  farm,  be  it 
little  or  great,  cannot  be  owned  by  the  tiller,  but  is  held  by  the 
lord  of  the  domain.     An  estate  may  not  be  divided  among  his 


DUBLIN.  45 

descendants,  but  must  pass  to  each  successive  heir  in  its  en- 
tirety. It  cannot  be  sold  to  those  who  would  use  it  and 
improve  its  value.  Without  homesteads,  with  no  prospect  of 
anything  but  unsatisfying  labor,  with  scarce  the  surety  of  earn- 
ing a  scanty  subsistence,  —  there  is,  among  the  common  people, 
a  lack  of  interest  in  agricultural  efforts.  Thousands  of  laborers 
leave  this  land,  the  fairest  on  which  God's  impartial  sun  shines  ; 
few  are  left  to  care  for  the  soil ;  and  so,  as  the  shortest  cut 
across  this  field  of  deliberately  created  difficulty,  nearly  all  the 
land  is  laid  down  to  grass.  In  our  ride  of  more  than  one 
hundred  miles,  hardly  one  fruit-tree  was  seen,  or  one  nice 
garden.  The  country  suffers  for  want  of  skilled  yeomanry,  to 
whom  anticipation  of  ownership  of  the  soil  is  "  a  cloud  by  day, 
and  a  pillar  of  fire  by  night,"  to  pilot  them  out  of  the  bondage 
they  are  in.  The  laws  of  justice  and  divine  compensation  are, 
however,  at  work,  and  change  for  the  better  is  at  hand ;  amend- 
ment after  amendment,  even  now  foreshadowed,  will  come,  for 
He  who  ruleth  over  all  will  "  turn  and  overturn,"  "till  he  whose 
right  it  is  shall  reign." 

But  to  return  to  the  Queen  City  of  Ireland,  —  its  greatest 
place  socially  and  commercially  speaking. 

Dublin  is  finely  situated  at  the  head  of  Dublin  Bay.  It  is  built 
solidly,  on  comparatively  level  land,  on  both  sides  of  the  River 
Liffey,  running  from  west  to  east.  The  city  has  a  population  of 
242,722  ;  including  the  adjoining  suburb,  295,841.  The  river  is 
navigable  to  Carlisle  Bridge  at  the  centre  of  the  city,  and  from 
the  mouth  of  the  river  up  to  the  bridge  it  has  good  docks  and 
wharves.  Its  commerce  is  varied  and  extensive.  Unfortunately 
there  was  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor  a  sand-bar,  on  which,  at 
low  water,  the  depth  varied  from  nine  to  twenty-four  feet.  This 
is  now  no  great  source  of  annoyance,  as  a  portion  of  it  has  been 
removed,  and  large  ships,  taking  advantage  of  the  tides,  may 
come  up  to  the  wharves. 

A  great  part  of  the  city  is  regularly  built,  having  wide  and 
well-paved  streets,  and  magnificent  stores  and  public  buildings. 
They  are  of  splendid  architecture,  and  of  every  style  and  kind, 
from  the  classic  Creek  and  Roman,  to  the  elegant  Renaissance, 
and  from  the  Gothic  of  antiquity  to  the  most  refined  of  our  own 
day.  The  latter,  however,  in  its  best  estate,  —  save  perhaps  in 
its  new  grouping  and  combination  of  the  best  of  the  old  id<  as, 
with  a  rejection  of  the  questionable  features — is  not  much  in 
advance  of  it s  original  sources. 

Like  all   large  places,  there   is   a  slum  where   the  people  are 


46  IRELAND. 

poor  and  low ;  but  in  these  respects  Dublin  is  not  the  equal 
of  Cork  and  some  other  parts  of  Southern  Ireland. 

As  we  go  north  towards  Belfast  and  Londonderry  we  find  an 
advance  in  what  constitutes  a  higher  and  better  civilization. 
The  influence  of  the  people  of  the  North  of  England,  and  more 
especially  of  Scotland,  has  modified  it.  It  may  be  said  that 
where  inflexible  Episcopacy,  acting  on  Catholicism,  has  pre- 
vailed, different  results  have  come.  While  the  good  but  ig- 
norant Catholic  has  no  affinity  for  Presbyterianisnij  he  has  a 
great  respect  for  the  industrious,  well-appearing,  just-dealing 
Scotchman,  and  he  entertains  an  active  suspicion  in  regard  to 
the  more  formal  Episcopalian,  who  has  ruthlessly,  as  he  thinks, 
appropriated  the  grand  old  churches  where  rest  the  bones  of 
revered  saints,  and  where  his  fathers  worshipped  for  many  gener- 
ations. Some  especial  influence  certainly  has  modified  Northern 
Ireland's  action,  nature,  and  life.  There  is  a  deal  more  implied 
in  the  phrase  North  of  Ireland,  and  in  its  antithesis,  Far-downer, 
than  appears  to  the  casual  observer.  There  is  no  city  of  Ireland 
where  wealth  and  poverty  are  more  contiguous,  and  where  aris- 
tocracy and  democracy  are  nearer  neighbors,  than  at  Dublin. 

Nine  bridges,  two  of  which  are  iron,  cross  the  river,  and  a 
magnificent  avenue  nine  miles  long,  called  the  Circular  Road, 
environs  the  city.  The  Bank  of  Ireland,  near  the  college,  is  a 
low  but  very  large  building,  and  was  once  the  House  of  Ear- 
liament.  Trinity  College  opposite  —  and  both  are  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  most  crowded  business  portion  of  the  city  — 
has  fine  stone  buildings,  with  large  and  elegantly  kept  lawns, 
one  opening  into  the  other.  The  institution  was  founded  by 
Fope  John  XXII.,  closed  by  Henry  VIII.,  and  reopened  by 
Queen  Elizabeth,  who  incorporated  it  in  1592. 

Of  the  many  public  buildings,  such  as  hospitals,  museums, 
libraries,  it  is  useless  to  speak.  They  are  noble  institutions,  and 
worthy  the  capital  of  even  England  itself.  It  has  a  very  large 
pleasure-ground  called  Bhcenix  Bark,  on  the  edge  of  the  city. 
This  park  is  well  laid  out,  and  is  for  Dublin  what  Central  Bark 
is  for  New  York,  or  Fairmount  for  Philadelphia.  There  is  in  it 
one  of  the  largest  and  most  admirably  kept  zoological  gardens  of 
the  world.  Glasnevin  Cemetery,  their  Mount  Auburn  or  Green- 
wood, is  an  elegant  city  of  the  dead.  Here  repose  the  remains 
of  1  >aniel  O'Connell,  under  a  high,  round  tower  visible  from  all 
parts  of  the  grounds.  The  profusion  of  sweet-scented  lime- 
trees,  and  the  taste  and  beauty  of  the  scenery  and  artificial  work, 
enable   it  to  vie  with  any  cemetery  in  Europe.     In  a  city  like 


DUBLIN.  47 

Dublin,  where  there  is  so  much  that  is  good  and  great,  one  is 
tempted  to  enlarge  the  range  of  his  thoughts,  and  is  loth  to 
leave  the  spot. 

Before  speaking  of  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Patrick,  we  will  give 
a  brief  history  of  cathedral  service  itself.  Till  the  time 
of  Constantine,  Christians  were  not  allowed  to  erect  temples. 
Early,  churches  meant  only  assemblies,  not  buildings  ;  and  by 
cathedrals  were  meant  their  consistories,  or  places  of  meeting. 
It  was  in  312  that  this  emperor  first  granted  absolute  tolera- 
tion to  Christians.  In  325  the  Council  of  Nice  was  con- 
vened, and  made,  under  his  sanction,  an  open  declaration  that 
Christianity  be  thereafter  the  recognized  official  religion  of  the 
land.  The  earliest  record  we  have  of  a  distinctive  cathedral 
service  is  near  the  end  of  the  fourth  century ;  although  there 
are  traces  of  it  at  an  earlier  date,  too  indistinct  to  be  re- 
liable.    St.  Basil,  at  the  close  of  the  fourth  century  says  :  — 

The  people  flocked  to  the  churches  before  daylight,  first  to  pray 
on  bended  knees,  then  rising  to  sing  psalms,  either  in  alternate 
chorus,  or  one  chanting,  others  following  in  an  under-voice  ;  and 
this  was  done  in  all  Egypt,  Libya,  Thebes,  Palestine,  Arabia,  and 
Syria. 

In  seventy  years  the  Christians  had  many  church  edifices, 
or  ecclesia  cathcdralis  (church  meeting-places),  and  a  pretty  well 
developed  and  organized  prayer  and  singing  service ;  but  cathe- 
dral or  church  service  did  not  come  to  great  perfection  till 
the  days  of  Gregory  the  Great,  who  was  born  a.  d.  540,  and 
died  in  604.  Chanting  had  its  origin  in  the  church  of  An- 
tioch  during  the  episcopate  of  Lontius,  a.  d.  347-356.  Theo- 
doret  informs  us  that  Flavianus  and  Diodorus  divided  the 
choir  into  two  parts,  and  made  them  sing  the  Psalms  of  David 
alternately,  and  that  this  method  began  first  at  Antioch.  At 
the  Council  of  Laodicea,  held  between  360  and  370,  it  was 
determined  that  there  should  be  canonical  singers,  who  should 
sing  out  of  written  books.  We  may  imagine  something  of  the 
of  affairs  before  the  order  passed  ;  forBalsamon  says  that, 
prior  to  the  convening  of  this  council,  the  laity  would  many 
times,  and  at  their  pleasure,  begin  to  sing  such  hymns  and 
songs  in  the  church  as  were  crude  and  unusual.  To  obviate 
this  the  'anon  was  made,  ordering  that  none  should  begin  to 
sing  but  those  whose  office  it  was  to  do  so,  tin-  laity  having 
1.  io  sing  with  them  in  the  entire  service; 
and   so  was    inaugurated  our    modern    congregational    singing, 


48  IRELAND. 

to  be  led,  however,  by  an  appointed  choir.  Choir-singing  was 
carried  into  Rome  in  380,  under  Pope  Damasus ;  and  in  the 
time  of  Gregory  the  Great,  about  620,  it  was  brought  to  great 
perfection.  Gregory  sent  Austin  to  introduce  it  into  England. 
He  found  the  clergy  there  unwilling  to  receive  it,  and  it  is  said 
that  he  caused  twelve  hundred  of  them  to  be  slaughtered  at 
once.  In  670  Theodore  was  sent  by  Vitalian  to  fill  the  See  of 
Canterbury,  and  he  succeeded  in  introducing  the  cathedral  ser- 
vice ;  and  he  also  has  the  credit  of  introducing  organs  into 
divine  worship.  The  year  679  is  the  earliest  certain  date  of 
cathedral  worship  in  Great  Britain. 

In  France  Gregorian  chant-work  began  about  the  year  787, 
and  was  patronized  by  Charles  the  Great.  In  the  reigns  of 
Henry  VIII.  and  Edward  VI.  thirty-two  commissioners  were 
appointed  to  examine  all  canons,  constitutions,  and  ordinances, 
provincial  and  synodal,  and  they  declared  against  a  cathedral 
service.  The  judicious  and  pious  Hooker,  ceremony-loving, 
and  jealous  of  the  interests  of  the  church,  yet  under  the  ban  and 
interdicted,  could  not  suppress  his  thought,  and  he  says  :  — 

Cathedrals  are  as  glasses,  wherein  the  face  and  very  countenance 
of  apostolical  antiquity  remaineth,  even  as  yet  to  be  seen,  notwith- 
standing the  alterations  which  the  hand  of  time  and  the  course  of 
the  world  hath  brought. 

So  the  work  continued  till  a  final  establishment  of  present 
customs,  and  Seymour  says  of  cathedrals  and  their  sen-ice  as  at 
present  carried  on  :  — 

They  serve  as  parish  churches,  only  on  a  more  elaborate  scale  ; 
and  there  can  be  no  valid  objection  raised  to  their  maintenance, 
except  by  those  who  condemn  an  intoned  service,  and  the  intro- 
duction of  a  highly  cultivated  musical  choir.  The  canons  preach 
in  turn,  and,  provided  the  preaching  is  orthodox  and  purely 
evangelical  [a  hit  this,  undoubtedly,  at  Dean  Stanlev,  Canon 
Farrar,  and  others  of  like  sentiment],  and  the  old  story  of  Christ's 
blood  and  righteousness  and  substitution  is  set,  forth  as  enough 
for  all  the  spiritual  necessities  of  mankind,  there  can  be  no  just 
grounds  of  complaint  against  the  peculiar  mode  of  our  present 
cathedral  worship. 

St.  Patrick's  being  the  first  cathedral  in  which  we  attend  ser- 
vices, the  foregoing  statement  is  made,  preparatory  to  a  consid- 
eration of  this  and  other  cathedrals  we  are  to  visit.  It  should 
be  remembered  that  in  all  of  them  the  sen-ice  is  intoned  or 
sung,  with  the  exception  of  the  sermon  itself,  that  being  a  part 


DUBLIN.  49 

of  the  service  only  on  Sundays  or  other  important  days.  So 
strong  is  the  force  of  habit,  that  the  sermon  also  is  generally 
delivered  in  a  drawling,  monotonous  tone.  This  was  a  marked 
feature  of  the  style  of  Dean  Stanley  in  sermons  delivered  during 
his  visit  to  America.  Very  strange  did  his  elocution  sound 
to  American  ears,  and  it  was  only  tolerated  because  it  came 
from  a  man  so  really  great  and  truly  honored. 

St.  Patrick's  Cathedral  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  churches 
in  Ireland,  and  hours  can  be  spent  with  pleasure  and  advantage 
in  the  grand  old  structure.  It  is  said  that  St.  Patrick  here 
erected  a  place  of  worship,  and  baptized  his  converts  with 
water  taken  from  a  well  in  the  floor  of  the  present  cathedral, 
which  is  still  shown  to  the  visitor.  As  evidence  of  its  antiquity 
as  a  place  of  worship,  and  of  the  importance  and  character  of 
the  original  building,  we  have  it  as  a  well  attested  fact  that  in 
890  —  almost  a  thousand  years  ago,  and  four  and  a  half  centu- 
ries after  the  establishment  of  worship  here  by  St.  Patrick,  and 
the  building  of  his  church  —  Gregory  of  Scotland,  with  his  ad- 
herents, attended  worship  here. 

The  present  edifice,  the  seat  of  the  Bishop  of  Dublin,  was 
begun  by  Archbishop  Comyn  in  1190.  It  was  doubled  in  its 
capacity  by  Archbishop  Minot,  who  held  the  See  in  1370, 
repairs  on  the  old  cathedral,  and  the  extension,  being  necessi- 
tated by  a  fire  which  destroyed  a  large  portion  of  the  building 
in  1362.  The  edifice  is  of  dark  or  blackish  stone.  It  is  irregular 
in  outline,  being  cruciform  in  plan,  with  nave,  choir,  transepts, 
lady-chapel  and  porch. 

A  number  of  monuments  are  scattered  about  the  interior, 
among  them  a  tablet  to  the  memory  of  the  Duke  of  Schom- 
berg,  with  an  inscription  by  Jonathan  Swift,  at  one  time  Dean  of 
the  cathedral.  In  another  part  are  mural  tablets,  high  up  from 
the  floor,  to  the  memory  of  the  Dean,  who  died  Oct.  19,  1745, 
and  was  here  buried.  Near  by  is  the  monument  to  Mrs.  Hester 
Johnson,  the  Stella  of  his  poetry.  A  monument  of  note  near 
the  door  commemorates  Boyle,  Earl  of  Cork,  who  died  1629. 
It  is  of  a  peculiar  design,  and  attractive  by  its  quaint  oddity. 
It  is  of  black  marble,  ornamented  in  parts  by  wood  mouldings 
and  carving,  which  were  painted  in  positive  colors,  but  are  now 
dull  and  somewhat  obscured.  It  represents  the  earl  and  his 
wife  in  recumbent  positions,  surrounded  by  their  sixteen  chil- 
dren. These  figures  are  of  wood,  and  carved  in  a  grotesque 
barbaru  enough  to  be  pleasing  examples  of  sculpture  to  a 
"  Heathen  Chinee." 

4 


50  IRELAND. 

The  exterior  of  the  cathedral  presents  a  very  aged  appear- 
ance, anci  the  two  parts  of  the  structure,  erected  by  the  two 
bishops  in  1 190  and  1370,  are  distinctly  marked.  The  tower 
has  plain  buttresses  at  the  corners,  each  ending  in  embattled 
turrets.  A  low.  stone  spire  above  this  is  attached  to  the  sec- 
tion built  by  Bishop  Comyn,  and  was  erected  some  time  after 
the  other  parts  of  the  cathedral.  Each  part  is  of  Gothic  archi- 
tecture, and  is  of  the  style  prevailing  at  the  period  of  its  erection. 
Elaborate  decoration  does  not  appear  in  any  part,  and  as  the 
edifice  fronts  on  a  cramped,  narrow  street,  and  is  near  the  sur- 
rounding buildings,  no  extended  view  of  it  can  be  obtained. 

In  i860  the  late  Sir  B.  L.  Guinness,  —  the  noted  brewer  of 
Dublin,  whose  celebrated  ales  and  porter  are  known  the  civil- 
ized world  over,  —  at  his  own  expense,  undertook  a  com- 
plete restoration  of  the  cathedral ;  and  after  years  of  continued 
labor,  by  a  large  body  of  workmen,  the  whole  was  finished  at  a 
cost  of  $720,000.  Changes  were  made  in  the  interior  by  the 
removal  of  modernish  screens,  and  the  exterior,  while  it  has  the 
same  antiquated  look,  is  in  perfect  repair.  The  interior  with 
its  lofty  groined  ceiling  and  arches,  its  stately  columns,  its  rich 
oaken  stalls,  its  beautiful  stained  glass  windows,  the  great  organ 
at  the  left  of  the  communion  table,  the  rich  pulpit,  —  especially 
dedicated  by  Mr.  Guinness  to  the  late  Dean  Peckham  as  a  me- 
morial, —  these  combine  to  make  the  venerable  structure  rank 
well  with  many  of  the  cathedrals  of  England.  We  hardly  need  to 
say  that  it  is  under  the  administration  of  the  Church  of  England. 

This  was  our  first  Sunday  on  land,  April  28,  and  we  decided 
that  we  would  attend  worship  here  in  the  forenoon.  The  Bishop 
of  Dublin,  and  his  canons,  curates,  and  robed  adult  choir,  were 
in  attendance,  and  the  cathedral  was  about  one  third  filled. 
The  service,  as  we  afterwards  found  to  be  the  universal  custom 
in  England,  was  intoned  instead  of  read.  It  was  disturbed,  too, 
by  the  constant  echoes  ;  and,  being  unfamiliar  with  an  intoned 
service,  we  were  but  poorly  interested,  and  hoped  for  better 
things  in  the  sermon,  which  was  by  one  of  the  canons.  It 
proved  to  be  a  weak  statement  of  common  things,  a  labored 
effort  to  prove  what  all  admitted  at  the  start.  We  would,  how- 
ever, speak  lightly  of  no  religious  work,  and  were  thankful  for 
the  treat  we  had  enjoyed  of  seeing  this  time-honored  sanctuary 
in  use,  and  that  we  had  listened  to  its  grand  music,  and  also  to 
even  a  poor  rendition  of  its  beautiful  service. 

At  2  p.  m.  we  are  out  again  for  a  ramble,  this  time  to  visit 
the  fine  grounds  and  buildings  of  the  Royal  Hospital,  built  by 


DUBLIN.  51 

the  celebrated  architect  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  at  London,  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  in  1669.  The  building  is  large,  though  but 
two  stories  in  height,  and  has  ample  grounds,  and  two-hundred- 
year-old  avenues,  well  shaded  by  large  trees.  The  institution  is 
now  used  as  a  military  station.  We  were  freely  admitted  to  the 
principal  parts,  were  delighted  with  the  old  and  good  portraits 
in  the  ancient  dining-hall,  —  and  inexpressibly  so  with  the 
chapel,  for  here  are  to  be  seen  transcripts  of  the  mind  of  Wren. 
He  appears  to  best  advantage  as  a  designer,  when  he  undertook 
to  make  pulpits  and  altar-pieces ;  and  here,  about  the  large 
circular-headed  altar-window,  he  has  almost  excelled  himself. 
This,  like  all  the  stall  work,  is  finished  in  oak,  and  is  as  elaborate 
and  as  perfect  as  though  of  modern  construction,  though  it  is 
more  than  two  hundred  years  old. 

Reluctantly  we  left  these  hallowed  premises  for  a  walk  in 
the  great  Phcenix  Park  near  by,  and  in  the  Zoological  Garden. 
On  our  walk  home  to  the  hotel,  we  made  it  in  our  way  to  pass 
the  companion  church  of  St.  Patrick,  the  other  cathedral ;  for, 
incredible  as  it  may  seem,  Dublin  has  another  Protestant  Epis- 
copal cathedral-church,  one  scarcely  inferior  to  St.  Patrick's 
in  renown.  It  is  the  venerable  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
more  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  Christ  Church  Cathe- 
dral. As  is  well  known,  a  cathedral  is  so  called  because  it  is 
the  seat  of  a  bishop.  Of  course  Dublin  has  but  one  bishop,  and 
he  is  at  St.  Patrick's.  The  edifice  we  are  to  describe  has,  in 
turn  with  St.  Patrick's,  been  the  bishop's  church,  and  from  that 
circumstance  the  name  has  obtained  its  present  use. 

This  edifice  is  of  great  interest  and  antiquity.  According  to 
the  "  Black  Book  of  Christ's  Church,"  a  very  ancient  record,  its 
vaults,  or  what  is  now  the  crypt,  were  built  by  the  Danes  before 
the  first  visit  of  St.  Patrick  to  Dublin  in  the  fifth  century,  but 
who  is  erroneously  reported  to  have  celebrated  mass  in  them. 
The  present  edifice,  in  comparison  with  these  vaults,  is  quite 
modern,  for  it  was  not  built  till  five  hundred  years  after ;  but 
enough  of  antiquity  remains  to  excite  our  admiration,  for  this 
building  was  begun  in  the  year  1038,  —  845  years  ago,  152 
years  before  the  building  of  St  Patrick's,  and  about  halfway 
between  the  date  of  the  birth  of  Christ  and  our  own  day. 

The  statement  that  St.  Patrick  said  mass  in  the  crypt  of  this 
cathedral  is  simply  a  legend,  for  he  had  ended  his  ministry 
early  in  the  fifth  century.  A  sort  of  tavern  was  kept  for  centu- 
ries in  this  Ciypt;  while  services  were  being  performed  above, 
the  votaries   of  Bacchus  were  adoring  their   god   beneath.      It 


O'l  IRELAND. 

was  no  uncommon  thing  in  that  age  for  churches  to  provide 
accommodation  for  the  tramps  and  bummers  of  the  time.  As 
late  as  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  benches  at  the 
door  of  Old  St.  Paul's,  London,  were  used  by  beggars  and 
drunkards  to  sleep  on,  and  the  place  was  surrendered  to  idlers 
of  all  descriptions. 

Christ  Church  Cathedral  was  greatly  enlarged  by  Lawrence 
O'Tool,  who,  in  1 163,  changed  the  canons,  originally  secular, 
into  the  regular  canons  of  Arras,  as  they  were  termed.  Next, 
Strongbow,  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  Fitzstephen,  both  Nor- 
man adventurers,  made  repairs  and  additions  about  the  year 
1 1 70;  and  again  Raymond  le  Gros,  at  a  yet  later  day,  added 
the  steeple,  choir,  and  two  small  chapels.  In  1 190,  but  twenty 
years  after,  it  was  practically  rebuilt  by  John  Comyn,  who  at  the 
same  time  was  building  St.  Patrick's;  and  about  the  year  1360 
John  de  St.  Paul  erected  the  chancel.  With  occasional  repairs 
the  edifice  remained  as  it  was,  523  years  ago,  till  a  few  years 
since,  when  great  dilapidation  had  taken  place,  .and  extensive 
restorations  were  needed.  Not  to  be  outdone  by  Mr.  Guinness 
at  St.  Patrick's,  Henry  Roe,  Esq.,  the  well-known  distiller  of 
Dublin,  emulating  the  example  of  his  friend,  ordered,  at  his 
own  expense,  complete  repairs  on  both  the  exterior  and  interior, 
costing  a  full  million  of  dollars.  The  work  was  done  under  the 
architectural  supervision  of  G.  A.  Street,  and  paid  for  by  Mr. 
Roe  as  the  work  proceeded.  At  the  time  of  our  second  visit, 
May  2,  although  not  entirely  finished,  the  building  had  been 
reopened,  and  an  assemblage  of  the  most  distinguished  prelates 
of  the  Episcopalian  order  held  a  four  clays'  service,  largely 
musical,  at  the  grand  opening,  of  which  we  speak  hereafter. 

The  building,  though  very  massive  and  suggestive  of  strength, 
is  not  beautiful  in  proportions  or  decoration.  It  has  a  clumsy 
look,  but  is  consistent  in  design  throughout.  The  interior  has 
the  same  appearance.  While  it  is  finished  in  the  highest  style 
of  workmanship,  and  in  the  best  possible  imitation  of  the  origi- 
nal plan,  it  is  mainly  pleasing  in  variety  of  design,  its  thorough- 
ness of  work,  and  in  the  faithful  representation  it  probably  gives 
of  the  cathedral  as  it  was  centuries  ago.  When  one  looks  at 
the  nicely  cut  stone  and  fine  finish,  he  can  but  believe  that  it 
is  a  vast  improvement  in  workmanship  on  its  original  self.  It 
has  many  ancient  monuments  of  the  quaintest  sort,  often  with 
rude  and  grotesque  designs. 

Conspicuous  among  these  is  one  of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  or, 
as  he  is  more  commonly  called,  Strongbow,  the  Norman  invader, 


DUBLIN.  53 

who  died  in  1166.  It  represents  the  renowned  warrior  in  a 
recumbent  posture,  clothed  in  mail  armor,  with  his  wife  Eva  by 
his  side.  Reasonable  doubts  exist  of  the  authenticity  of  the 
monument.  Its  honors  are  divided  between  him  and  the  Earl 
of  Desmond,  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  who  was  looked  upon 
with  suspicion  and  jealousy  on  account  of  his  kindness  to  the 
Irish  people,  and  in  consequence  of  this  jealousy  was  beheaded 
at  Drogheda  in  1497.  This  monument  was  removed  from  its 
original  location,  by  order  of  Sir  Henry  Sidney,  in  1569. 

This  cathedral  is  a  place  of  resort  for  those  who  are  interested 
in  the  elaborate  service  performed  every  Sunday  forenoon.  It 
has  a  lawn  on  one  side  of  it,  somewhat  larger  than  any  at  St. 
Patrick's.  This  is  well  fenced  in  from  the  side  street,  and  par- 
allel with  the  side  of  the  cathedral ;  but  the  rear  end  and  side  are 
in  close  contiguity  to  common  buildings,  and  the  neighborhood  is 
entirely  made  up  of  ordinary  houses  of  brick  or  stone,  which  are 
filled  with  tenants,  often  having  families  on  each  floor.  The 
streets  are  narrow,  and  while  not  remarkably  dirty,  they  are  any- 
thing but  tidy  in  appearance.  This  portion  of  the  city,  and 
St.  Patrick's  neighborhood  —  which  is  not  more  than  a  five 
minutes'  walk  away  —  are  probably  the  oldest  settled  parts  of  the 
city  :  a  low  population  having  taken  possession  still  retain  their 
foothold,  as  they  do  about  the  great  churches  at  Cork  and 
Limerick. 

There  are  many  interesting  facts  shown  on  the  ancient  records 
of  this  cathedral.  In  1434  the  mayor  and  some  distinguished 
citizens  of  Dublin  did  penance,  by  walking  barefoot  through  the 
streets  to  the  cathedral,  for  having  committed  manslaughter ; 
for  taking  the  Earl  of  Ormonde  prisoner  "  in  a  hostile  manner  ;  " 
for  breaking  open  the  doors  of  St.  Mary's  Abbey,  dragging  out 
the  abbot,  "  and  carrying  him  forth  like  a  corpse,  some  bearing 
him  by  the  feet,  and  others  by  the  arms  and  shoulders." 

In  1450  a  parliament  was  held  in  the  cathedral  by  Henry  VI.  ; 
another  was  held  in  1493.  In  1497  liberty  from  arrests,  and  all 
other  molestations,  was  granted,  by  the  city  of  Dublin,  to  those 
who  should  come  to  visit  any  shrine  or  relic  of  this  edifice. 
In  1528  the  prior  of  this  cathedral,  with  the  priors  of  St.  John 
of  Jerusalem  and  of  All  Saints.  <  aused  two  plays  to  be  a<  ted.  on 
■  erected  by  Hoggin  Green,  representing  the  Passion  of 
iour,  and  the  several  deaths  the  apostles  suffered.  This 
was  a  sort  of  Irish  Oberammergau  play. 

Seven  years  later,  in  15  at  1  tiange  m  public  sentiment 

had  come;  lor  in  this  year  George  Brown,  an  Augustin  friar 


54  IRELAND. 

who  had  been  consecrated  bishop,  removed  all  images  and  rel- 
ics from  this  and  the  other  churches  of  the  diocese,  and  in  their 
stead  placed  the  Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments in  gilded  frames.  In  1538  the  Baculus  jfesu,  or 
holy  staff,  said  to  have  belonged  to  St.  Patrick,  and  deposited 
here  in  11 80,  was  publicly  burned.  In  1554  Bishop  Brown, 
who  was  the  first  Protestant  prelate  of  Dublin,  was  deprived  of 
his  office  by  Queen  Mary.  Four  years  later  another  reaction 
had  taken  place.  In  1559  Parliament  was  held  in  the  cathe- 
dral ;  the  Act  of  Uniformity  was  passed  ;  the  Litany  was  sung 
in  English,  for  the  first  time  in  Ireland,  before  the  Earl  of  Sus- 
sex, the  Lord  Lieutenant ;  and  a  large  English  Bible  was  chained 
in  the  middle  of  the  choir,  free  for  the  people  to  read.  By  order 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  Thomas  Lockwood,  the  dean,  removed  all 
Popish  relics  and  images,  that  had  been  restored  in  the  days  of 
Queen  Mary  in  1570.  Penance  was  performed  here  by  Richard 
Dixon,  Bishop  of  Cork,  who  was  also  deprived  of  his  See  for 
gross  immoralities.  In  1633  the  Lord-deputy  sent  an  urgent 
letter  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  asking  him  to  prevent  a 
longer  use  of  the  vaults  under  the  cathedral  as  ale  and  tobacco 
shops. 

In  1 738  a  peal  of  bells  was  cast  by  Abel  Rudhall  of  Glouces- 
ter, England,  and  placed  in  the  tower.  He  had  cast  the  Sweet 
Bells  of  Shandon  at  St.  Ann's,  Cork.  He  was  also  the  maker  of 
the  bells  at  Christ  Church,  Boston,  which  were  cast  but  six  years 
later,  in  1744.  There  were  at  the  cathedral  originally  but  eight 
bells.  Five  have  recently  been  added.  In  1821  George  IV., 
and  in  1868  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales,  attended  service 
in  the  cathedral. 

All  cathedrals  have  a  similar  history.  A  cathedral's  history  is 
but  a  record  of  humanity's  march  through  the  centuries,  through 
superstition,  blood,  and  contest,  onward  and  upward  to  advanced 
and  yet  advancing  conditions,  till  finally — if  there  be  truth  in 
divine  writ  or  the  aspirations  of  humanity  —  "the  kingdoms  of 
this  world  shall  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  and  of  his 
Christ." 

Sackville  Street  is  a  splendid  business  avenue  leading  from 
Carlisle  Bridge.  It  is  full  one  hundred  feet  wide,  and  filled  with 
a  hurrying,  Broadway  or  Washington  Street-like  population.  On 
the  left  stands  the  classical  portico  of  the  post-office,  composed 
of  six  large  Ionic  columns,  and  their  entablature  and  pediment. 
It  is  surmounted  by  figures  of  Hibemia,  Mercury,  and  Fidelity. 
In  front,  at  the  centre  of  the  street,  is  Nelson's  monument,  a 


DUBLIN.  55 

splendid  column  112  feet  high, — exclusive  of  the  crowning  statue 
of  the  hero  of  Trafalgar,  which  is  in  itself  13  feet  in  height.  This 
is  a  fine  piece  of  sculpture,  and  is  from  the  studio  of  a  native 
sculptor,  Thomas  Kirk.  The  monument  was  erected  by  public 
subscription  and  cost  over  $34,000.  In  consequence  of  the 
general  levelness  of  the  city  of  Dublin,  from  the  top  of  this  col- 
umn, though  not  of  very  great  height,  may  be  seen  almost  the 
entire  surrounding  country,  from  the  Mourne  Mountains  in  the 
county  of  Down  on  the  north,,  around  to  the  Wicklow  Moun- 
tains on  the  south.  Spread  out  before  the  observer  are  the 
plains  of  Meath  and  Kildare,  extending  far  westward,  and  parted 
by  the  hills  of  Dublin  and  its  bay ;  and  to  the  eastward  appears 
the  Irish  Sea. 

The  Custom  House  and  the  Four  Courts  of  Dublin  are  im- 
mense structures,  of  classical  architecture,  and  well  decorated 
with  statuary.  On  the  former  are  statues  representing  Navi- 
gation, Wealth,  Commerce,  Industry,  Europe,  Asia,  America, 
and  Africa.  Other  parts  have  the  arms  of  Ireland.  There  is 
a  fine  allegorical  representation  of  Britannia  and  Hibernia  in  a 
great  marine  shell,  with  a  group  of  merchantmen  approaching, 
and  Neptune  driving  away  Famine  and  Despair. 

The  Court  House  has  on  the  upper  angle  of  its  great  portico 
pediment  a  statue  of  Moses,  and  at  the  lower  ends  statues  of 
Mercy  and  Justice.  On  other  parts  are  Wisdom  and  Authority. 
The  great  entrance  hall  is  64  feet  in  diameter ;  at  the  centre 
stands  a  colossal  statue  of  Truth,  bearing  in  her  upraised  hand 
a  torch,  from  which  issue  gas  jets  for  illuminating  the  rotunda. 

We  attended  a  court  session.  The  rooms  were  cramped  in 
size,  and  dark  from  the  few  smoked  and  unwashed  windows. 
A  peculiar  impression  was  made,  reminding  us  of  a  by-gone 
custom  and  age,  when  we  saw  the  lawyers,  —  or  barristers  as 
they  are  called,  —  old  and  young,  arrayed  in  loose  black  alpaca 
robes,  open  in  front  and  flying  as  they  walk,  and  wearing  gray 
wigs  of  scrupulously  curled  hair.  These  are  for  sale  in  especial 
stores,  and  their  use  is  imperative  when  one  addresses  the  judge 
of  any  save  the  lowest  common  police  court. 

Previous  anticipations  of  what  was  to  be  seen  in  Ireland's  great 
metropolis  were  in  the  main  realized.  We  expected,  however, 
more  Irish  and  less  English  elements.  The  city  is  quite 
American  in  appearance.  Except  fur  a  more  durable  and  classi- 
ca]  look  to  its  buildings,  and  the  1  ul  stone  embankments  on  both 
sides  of  the  river;  excepting  also  its  heavier  horse-cars  and 
their  roads,  —  tramways,  as  they  are  called,  —  little  is  seen  that 


56  IRELAND. 

may  not  recall  our  large  cities,  especially  Buffalo  and  Cincinnati. 
In  fact,  we  were  strongly  reminded  of  these  by  the  stores,  houses, 
and  streets,  the  quantity  of  business  doing,  and  the  average  ap- 
pearance  of  the  people.  Sunday  was  observed,  much  as  it  is  in 
Boston  or  New  York,  by  a  general  suspension  of  business,  the 
streets  being  filled  with  well-dressed,  orderly  people.  Bells  often 
saluted  the  ear,  horse-cars  and  omnibuses  were  well  patronized, 
and  the  parks  were  visited  by  thousands,  all  in  a  state  of  sobriety 
that  we  are  not  sure  of  seeing  in  a  large  American  city.  We 
now  for  a  time  leave  the  city,  but  in  another  chapter  shall  speak 
of  it  again. 


WATERFORD.  57 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WATERFORD CARRICK-ON-SUIR KILKENNY DUBLIN  AGAIN. 

BUSINESS  now  called  us  back  to  the  lower  part  of  Ireland, 
and  we  will  here  take  a  look  at  Waterford  and  other 
places. 
Waterford  is  one  of  the  most  noted  places  of  Southern 
Ireland,  and  has  for  centuries  played  an  important  part  in 
history  and  commerce.  We  arrived  here  at  6.30  p.  m.,  after 
a  ride  of  five  and  a  half  hours  from  Dublin.  The  city  is  situ- 
ated on  the  right  bank  of  the  River  Suir,  nine  miles  from  its 
entrance  into  Waterford  Harbor.  It  has  an  extensive  suburb, 
with  a  pleasant  settlement  called  Ferrybank,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  opposite  a  part  of  the  city.  The  population  of  Water- 
ford proper  is  23,349.  The  quay  is  the  finest  in  Ireland.  It 
is  120  feet  wide,  extends  for  three  quarters  of  a  mile  along  the 
river,  and  is  well  built  of  stone.  Bordering  this,  on  the  land 
side,  are  stores  of  various  kinds.  It  looks  like  an  old  commer- 
cial place,  and  the  general  dingy  look  of  everything  suggests 
great  dampness  of  atmosphere.  There  are  not  many  buildings 
of  importance.  Few  of  the  streets  are  wide,  but  most  of  them 
are  narrow  and  crooked,  and  lanes  and  alleys  abound.  We 
were  impressed  with  the  aspect  of  poverty.  The  shore  opposite 
is  bold,  rocky,  and  precipitous,  and,  at  the  lower  end,  about 
the  bridge  and  railway  station,  is  romantic  and  picturesque. 

The  old,  long  bridge  is  a  structure  of  stone,  and  of  con- 
siderable consequence.  It  was  erected  in  Ireland's  memorable 
year,  1 798,  and  near  this  place  one  of  her  most  important  bat- 
tles was  fought,  which  ended  to  her  disadvantage,  and  resulted, 
in  1 80 1,  in  the  surrender  of  her  power,  and  the  establishment 
of  English  rule.  It  is  too  much  to  expect  that  England,  who 
so  long  ago  established  its  authority  in  India,  and  in  our  time 
in  Cyprus,  thousands  of  miles  away,  should  resist  the  temp- 
tation of  subjugating  a  land  so  indefensible  as  Ireland,  which  lay 
at  her  very  door.  The  bridge  having  been  built  in  her  last  great 
battle  year,  a  stone  slab  in  the  parapet  records  the  fa<  t. 


58  IRELAND. 

Here  are  the  inevitable  barracks  They  are  of  stone,  three 
stories  high,  and  very  extensive.  There  were  evidences  of 
military  rule  in  every  place  yet  visited.  The  soldiers  are  all 
young.  None  are  over  thirty  years  of  age,  and  many  not  more 
than  eighteen.  All  are  stout  and  robust,  and  each  is  a  picked 
man.  The  uniform  coats  are  red,  with  gilt  buttons,  the  pants 
are  a  dark  plaid  ;  they  look  dandyish.  These  men  are  the 
best  physique  of  the  nation,  and,  as  a  whole,  put  to  a  bad  use. 
They  are  always  to  be  found  on  the  street,  either  singly,  by  twos, 
or  in  squads,  each  with  a  switch-cane,  said  to  be  furnished  by 
the  government. 

The  police  are  English,  for  no  Irish  person  is  trusted,  and 
they  are  finely  dressed  in  dark  clothes.  They  are  very  civil  and 
gentlemanly,  and,  like  the  soldiers,  are  picked  men.  Save  on  a 
single  occasion  in  Dublin,  we  saw  no  disturbance  of  any  kind, 
nor  any  service  rendered  by  the  police. 

What  interested  us  most  was  an  old  tower  on  this  main 
thoroughfare,  situated  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  quay  on  the 
land  side,  and  just  out  to  the  sidewalk  line,  in  close  contiguity 
with  the  surrounding  buildings.  It  is  fifty  feet  high,  and  about 
thirty-five  feet  in  diameter,  and  is  built  of  irregular  ledge  stone, 
of  a  dark  gray  or  brownish  color ;  is  very  plain,  as  far  as  a  pro- 
jection near  the  top,  of  a  few  inches  ;  above  this  it  is  continued 
up  plain  some  two  or  three  feet  higher,  having  a  conical  roof 
which  comes  down  apparently  inside  of  the  stone  work.  There 
is  a  single  door  in  the  first  story.  Just  above  this,  to  the  left, 
is  a  stone  tablet,  about  two  and  a  half  feet  wide  and  five  feet 
high,  with  pilasters  and  pediment  top,  —  the  whole  much  like  a 
dormer  window.     The  inscription  is  as  follows  :  — 

In  the  year  1003 

This  tower  was  erected 

By  REGINALD  the  DANE. 

IN    I  171    IT    WAS    HELD    AS    A    FORTRESS 

by  STRONGBOLD,  Earl  of  Pembroke. 

In    I463    BY    STATUTE   3D,    EDWARD    IV, 

a  mint  was  established  here. 

In  1819  it  was  Reedified  in  its 

original  Form  and  appropriated  to 

The  POLICE  ESTABLISHMENT 

by  the  CORPORATION  BODY  of 

The  city  of  Waterford. 

Rt.  Hon.  Sir  John  Newport,  Bt.,  M.  P.,  Mayor, 

Henry  Alcock,  Esq.,   )  s 

William  Weeks,  Esq.  ;  *>HERIFFS- 


CARRICK-ON-SUIR.  59 

The  city  is  very  old,  and  was  founded  about  the  year  850, 
or  more  than  one  thousand  years  ago,  at  which  time  Sithric 
the  Dane  made  it  his  capital.  In  1 1 7 1  Strongbow  and  Ray- 
mond le  Gros  took  the  place,  and  put  to  death  most  of  the 
Danish  inhabitants.  King  John  gave  it  its  first  charter,  and 
resided  here  for  some  time.  The  place  was  unsuccessfully  be- 
sieged by  Cromwell,  but  was  afterwards  captured  by  the  intrepid 
Ireton.     There  are  remains  of  old  fortifications  and  monasteries. 

Curraghmore,  the  seat  of  the  Marquis  of  Waterford,  contain- 
ing four  thousand  acres,  is  near  the  city.  After  a  stay  till  9  p.  M. 
of  this  day,  we  took  train  for  the  town  of 

CARRICK-ON-SUIR, 

where  we  arrived  at  9.45,  and  took  room  at  Madame  Phalan's 
Hotel.  It  is  a  very  comfortable  place,  and  thoroughly  Irish, 
but  of  a  good  sort,  —  a  little  old  inn  of  the  first  water ;  and,  as 
usual,  a  woman  sixty  years  old  was  the  "  man  of  the  house." 
A  good  night's  rest,  and,  next  morning  a  tramp  over  the  town, 
and  the  business  for  which  we  had  come  was  attended  to.  The 
place  was  very  clean  and  neat,  the  buildings  being  of  stone, 
with  slate  roofs.  Many  were  plastered  on  the  outside,  painted 
in  tints  of  cream-color  or  gray,  and  blocked  off  to  represent  stone. 
They  are  generally  two  or  three  stories  high.  We  have  spoken 
of  the  slate  roofs.  Some  were  new  and  clean,  like  the  best  in 
Boston.  Others  were  ancient,  and  made  of  thick  slates,  little 
better  than  thin  stones  of  small  size,  and  often  mortared  up  so 
as  to  give  a  very  clumsy  appearance.  On  many  of  them  were 
large  patches  of  thick,  green,  velvety  moss,  and  not  unfrequently 
growing  in  it,  and  in  the  roof-gutters,  were  specimens  of  snap- 
dragon in  full  bloom.  The  people  refrain  from  removing  these 
excrescences,  unless  for  repairs  which  compel  them  to  do  so. 

We  were  delighted  with  the  old  market-place,  and  with  the 
thoroughly  Irish  houses,  one  story  high,  built  of  stone,  plastered 
and  whitewashed,  and  situated  in  narrow  lanes,  which  were 
paved  with  round  cobble-stones,  and  kept  remarkably  clean. 
The  place  shows  cultivation  and  a  good  civilization.  It  is  a  mar- 
ket-town, and  a  parish  of  Tipperary,  and  is  situated  on  the  pretty 
River  Suir,  crossed  by  a  bridge  built  over  five  hundred 
years  ago.  It  has  a  population  of  8,520.  It  was  formerly  en- 
closed by  walls,  and  has  a  parish  church  of  great  antiquity.  A 
line  Roman  Catholic  Cliunh  has  lately  been  built,  and  a  large 
v  hool   is  connected  with  it,  having  an  elegant  building  of  gray 


60  IRELAND. 

limestone.  There  is  a  castle  of  some  repute,  formerly  belonging 
to  the  celebrated  Ormonde  family.  The  town  also  has  a  prison, 
a  hospital,  and  barracks. 

Improvements  in  the  river,  made  in  1850,  rendered  it 
navigable  for  vessels  of  considerable  capacity,  which  can 
now  come  up  to  the  town,  which  has  quite  a  trade  in  cotton, 
corn,  and  general  produce.  Monthly  fairs  are  held  in  the 
market-place.  There  are  some  shade-trees,  and  the  town  in 
many  parts  has  a  rural  look.  But  few  very  Irish-looking  people 
are  seen.  While  the  town  is  unmistakably  Irish,  it  is  of  a  high 
grade  ;  and,  notwithstanding  many  of  its  buildings  are  quaint 
and  old,  for  the  most  part  it  is  modern,  though  not  of  course 
like  New  England.  The  place  has  two  banks,  and  a  num- 
ber of  good  stores.  We  had  seen  no  place  quite  like  Carrick, 
but,  as  we  aftewards  found,  it  anticipated  Kilkenny. 

The  good  wine  was,  however,  kept  till  the  last,  for  we  had  an 
exquisite  suburban  trip.  At  1.30  p.m.  we  took  a  team,  standing 
in  the  street  for  hire,  for  our  journey  to  Pilltown.  We  did  n't 
care  to  inquire  where  the  village  got  its  name,  and  doubt  of  suc- 
cess had  we  made  the  attempt.  A  half-mile  out,  and  we  were  in 
love  with  the  scenery.  There  presented  itself  every  kind  of 
view  imaginable,  —  hills,  fields,  groves,  and  mountains  in  the  dis- 
tance. We  thought  then,  and  we  think  now,  that  little  section 
is  the  garden  of  Ireland.  How  fine  the  landscapes  !  how  balmy 
and  clear  the  atmosphere  !  what  good  vegetation,  and  what 
sleek  horses,  beautiful  healthy  cows,  and  splendid  sheep  !  and 
how  very  civil  they  were,  and  how  confiding,  when  we  strangers 
came  near  them  !  We  were  so  full  of  satisfaction  that  we  had 
but  little  real  ability  to  appreciate  what  we  saw  next,  —  a  street 
as  wide  and  clean  as  can  be  desired,  some  of  the  neatest  possi- 
ble one-story  stone  houses,  with  appropriate  front-yards  with 
flowers  in  them  ;  and  nowhere  to  be  found,  in  either  street  or 
yard  or  house,  so  far  as  we  could  see,  a  thing  to  amend  or  alter. 
Well,  we  almost  knew  there  was  an  especial  cause  for  all  this. 
No  lot  of  mortals,  fallen  from  the  assumed  high  plane  of  Adam 
and  Eve,  ever  existed,  ■ —  at  all  events  that  we  have  heard  of,  — 
who  would  of  themselves  get  into  this  Eden-like  condition. 
We  inquired  the  cause,  and  soon  the  mystery  was  at  an  end, 
for  we  were  told  that  Lord  Bestborough,  —  we  hope  that  name 
is  given  right,  —  a  much  beloved  landholder,  owned  all,  and 
gave  annual  prizes  for  the  best  kept  houses  and  grounds.  A 
committee  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  have  the  matter  in  charge  ; 
they  make  two  especial  visits,  and  award  five  prizes  in  all,  the 
largest  being  two  pounds,  or  ten  dollars. 


PURCELL    ESTATE.  61 

We  rode  on,  and  were  soon  at  the  original  Purcell  estate, 
which  has  for  some  hundreds  of  years  been  occupied  by  the 
family  of  that  name,  from  which  one  of  the  writers  came  in  the 
course  of  human  progress.  In  talking  of  our  own  company,  we 
are  not  inclined  to  say  descent,  and  especially  in  these  days  of 
Darwinism  ;  so  we  draw  it  mild  when  we  refrain  from  saying 
ascent,  and  are  contented  with  suggesting  that  we  have  advanced 
or  progressed. 

We  may  have  been  prejudiced,  but  very  delightful  was  the 
scenery  in  this  region.  The  river  took  a  grand  quarter-circle 
sweep  just  back  of  the  old  farm,  and  was  here  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  wide,  with  remarkably  fine  English  grass-meadows,  half 
a  mile  wide,  bordering  it.  The  distant  hills  were  irregular  and 
well  wooded,  and  over  them  was  a  fine  haze,  like  that  of  our 
Blue  Hills  at  Milton.  The  great  ravines  had  dark  places  of 
interest,  and  made  all  very  picturesque.  Not  more  than  two  or 
three  scattered  farmhouses  were  in  view.  No  noise  was  heard 
save  that  of  the  small  birds ;  but  conspicuous  was  the  song  of 
the  Irish  Thrush. 

Two  coal-vessels  were  at  anchor  in  the  river,  and  these 
added  a  strange  element  to  the  scene.  We  hallooed  to  one 
vessel  and  beckoned,  and  a  boat  was  put  out  to  ferry  us  over. 
In  making  for  Purcell's  we  had  mistaken  the  road,  and  so  had 
walked  a  mile  or  more  out  of  the  way,  and  were  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  river.  It  would  n't  be  Yankeeish  to  go  back,  but 
rather  to  go  ahead,  especially  when,  Davy  Crockett-like,  we 
were  sure  we  were  right,  —  for,  to  use  an  Irishism,  we  were 
right  when  we  were  wrong.  The  boat  came,  and  we,  like  the  two 
kings  of  ancient  Munster  —  Strongbow  and  Raymond  le  Gros  — 
stepped  in  and  were  rowed  over.  We  gave  a  shilling  to  the 
boatman,  and  landed,  and  were  now  all  right.  It  would  not  be 
becoming  to  tell  all  that  we  saw,  said,  and  did.  We  had  never 
seen  one  of  that  family,  nor  they  us  ;  nor  had  they  seen  any 
other  Yankees  ;  and  if  any  mortals  were  surprised,  they  were. 
Photographs  of  some  kindred  were,  however,  in  that  very  house. 
The  whole  matter  of  relationship  was  thoroughly  talked  over,  and 
in  the  room  where  the  great-grandfather  died,  we  took  tea.  We 
stood  in  front  of  the  large  kitchen  fireplace,  where  for  almost  a  cen- 
tury he  used  to  sit,  and  were  delighted  with  a  sight  of  old  New- 
Englandish  pots,  kettles,  trammels,  hooks,  and  large  high  and- 
irons, about  which  the  burning  furze  crackled.  Keats  has  it,  "  A 
thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever."  This  is  a  joy  forever,  —  that 
old  fireplace  ;  but  the  beauty  is  nowhere,  not  even,  thought  we, 


62  IRELAND. 

in  the  "  mind's  eye  Horatio."  To  leave  a  cathedral  or  a  fine 
old  ruin,  a  picture  gallery  or  museum,  caused  less  trouble  than 
our  parting  with  this  good  old  Irish  homestead ;  but  the  spell 
must  be  broken. 

As  we  walked  through  the  long,  winding  lane,  each  side  well 
hedged,  we  were  delighted  anew.  In  what  profusion  were  the 
modest  daisies  in  the  pathway ;  how  many,  many  snails,  their 
houses  on  their  backs,  were  on  the  bushes;  and  then,  those  ex- 
quisite primroses,  in  such  vast  numbers,  —  of  the  most  delicate, 
refined  straw-tint  imaginable.  The  entire  vegetation  was  so 
clean  !  And  then  the  stillness  —  nothing  but  sweet-singing  birds 
to  make  a  noise.  Half  a  mile  off,  on  a  rise  of  land  to  our  right, 
was  a  little  village  of  perhaps  twenty  houses,  —  and  the  church, 
the  mother  building  of  them  all.  Here,  once  a  Purcell  was  the 
priest.  He  built  the  house  we  had  visited,  and  was  a  brother  of 
the  great-grandfather.  Advanced  as  we  are,  and  removed  from 
Romanism,  yet  there  was  a  charm  about  that  old  spot.  Though 
dead  a  century,  that  venerable  priestly  ancestor  yet  speaketh. 

We  wended  our  way  to  Fiddown  Station.  How  refinedly 
Irish  that  name  is,  and  also  that  of  the  village  Polroon  ;  but 
alas,  the  euphony  had  become  exhausted  before  we  went  in 
imagination  a  half-mile  back  from  Polroon,  and  over  to  Pur- 
cell's  Village,  for  that  has  the  aesthetic  name  of  Moincoin.  Our 
walk  from  this  place  was  three  miles,  but  the  distance  was  short 
enough  amidst  such  air  and  scenery. 

A  ride  in  the  steam-cars,  of  an  hour  from  Fiddown,  and  at 
9  p.  m.  we  were  back,  not  in  Carrick-on-Suir,  but  in  Waterford, 
at  the  Imperial  Hotel,  near  the  old  Stronghold  Tower  before 
described.  Not  much  of  Irish  about  the  hotel !  Next  morning 
breakfast  was  ordered  at  6  a.  m.  Then  we  went  out  and  copied 
the  tower  inscription  before  given.  At  7.15  took  cars  for  Kil- 
kenny, where  we  arrived  at  8.30. 

The  general  look  of  the  landscape  between  the  places,  and  in 
fact  all  the  way  down  from  Dublin,  was  very  like  that  of  New 
England  along  shore.  Trees  and  woods  are  in  about  the  same 
proportion  as  with  us,  and,  excepting  the  houses,  we  saw  noth- 
ing that  we  might  not  have  seen  in  a  similar  ride  at  home. 

KILKENNY. 

"  Kilkenny  is  sure  another  of  the  Irish  places,"  says  the 
reader ;  and  it  is  hardly  less  so  by  reputation  than  Sligo,  Dun- 
dalk,  and  Drogheda.     It  is  the  shire  town  of  the  county  of  Kil- 


KILKENNY.  63 

kenny,  and  a  county  of  itself,  situated  on  the  River  Nore,  63 
miles  from  Dublin,  and  30  miles  from  Waterford,  having  a 
population  of  12,664.  It  is  divided  by  the  river  into  an  Irish 
and  an  English  town,  the  former  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cathedral, 
and  the  latter  near  the  castle.  In  ancient  times  the  place 
figured  largely  as  a  seat  of  parliaments,  and  was  often  the  scene 
of  stirring  events.  As  viewed  from  the  railway,  which  is  one 
of  the  best  points  of  observation,  Kilkenny  is  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  rural  places  that  can  be  imagined.  On 
the  left  of  the  centre,  and  on  low  ground,  is  the  castle. 
The  original  was  built  by  Earl  Strongbow  in  11 72,  and,  de- 
stroyed by  Donald  O'Brien  soon  after.  The  present  struc- 
ture was  built  inii95.  In  1319  James  Butler,  third  Earl  of 
Ormonde,  purchased  the  estate  of  the  Pembroke  (or  Stronghold ) 
family,  and  with  his  descendants  it  has  since  remained.  It  is 
in  perfect  condition,  and  occupied  by  the  Marquis  of  Ormonde. 
It  is  a  very  large  edifice,  of  an  old  granite  appearance,  is  situ- 
ated on  a  slight  elevation,  and  the  river  runs  rapidly  by  its 
base.  The  location  is  at  the  centre  of  population,  the  main 
avenues  adjoining  the  grounds.  The  general  effect  reminds 
us  of  Warwick  Castle.  Richard  II.  spent  two  weeks  here  on  a 
visit  to  the  Earl  in  1399.  In  March,  1650,  Cromwell,  having 
invested  the  place,  opened  a  cannonade  on  the  castle  and  made 
a  breach  in  its  walls ;  but  the  attackers  were  twice  repulsed,  and 
the  breach  quickly  repaired,  Cromwell  was  traitorously  admitted 
by  the  mayor  and  a  few  of  his  townsmen  ;  and  as  he  was  in  com- 
pany with  Ireton,  Sir  Walter  Butler,  who  was  in  charge  of  the 
place,  deemed  it  expedient  to  capitulate,  and  did  so  on  honor- 
able terms.  He  and  his  officers  were  highly  complimented  by 
Cromwell,  who  informed  them  that  he  had  lost  more  men  in 
storming  the  town  than  he  did  in  taking  Drogheda,  and  that  but 
for  treachery  he  should  have  retired  from  the  siege. 

To  the  right  of  the  centre  and  on  very  high  ground  we  see  the 
Cathedral  of  St.  Canice,  one  of  the  most  interesting  ecclesi- 
astical structures  of  Ireland.  It  was  begun  in  1 1 80  by  Felix 
O'Dullany,  who  transferred  the  See  of  Sagir  from  Aghabo  to 
Kilkenny.  So  extensive  was  the  design  of  the  building  that  its 
projectors,  never  expecting  to  see  it  finished,  contentedly 
covered  in  the  choir  and  consecrated  it,  leaving  to  others  the 
task  of  consummating  the  work.  It  is  cruciform  in  plan,  226 
feet  long,  and  123  feet  wide  at  the  transepts.  It  has  a  low  and 
long  look,  and  the  tower,  which  is  also  low,  gives  the  structure  a 
depressed   appearance.     The  interior,  however,  is   grand   and 


04  IRELAND. 

imposing.  The  pillars  are  of  plain  black  marble,  surmounted  by 
high  Gothic  arches.  The  arches  under  the  tower,  which  is  at 
the  intersection  of  nave,  choir,  and  transepts,  rest  on  four  mas- 
sive marble  columns.  The  great  western  window  is  triplicated, 
and  a  large  cross  and  two  Gothic  finials  crown  the  centre, 
angles,  and  apex  of  the  great  gable.  The  exterior  is  in  tolerable 
repair,  and  the  interior  is  in  perfect  condition,  having  been  fully 
restored  by  Dean  Vignolles. 

The  monumental  remains  are  numerous  and  interesting. 
Among  them  is  that  of  Peter  Butler,  the  eighth  Earl  of  Ormonde, 
and  his  Amazonian  Countess,  known  by  the  Irish  as  Morgyrhead 
Ghearhodh.  Irish  enough  the  name  is,  and  for  that  reason  we 
quote  it.  They  died  in  the  sixteenth  century.  The  Countess 
was  of  the  family  of  Fitzgerald,  and  did  not  dishonor  her  blood, 
for  she  was  masculine  in  organization,  and  as  warlike  as  any  of 
her  race.  History  says  of  her  that  "she  was  always  attended 
by  numerous  vassals,  richly  clothed  and  accoutred,  the  whole 
forming  a  gay  pageant  and  formidable  army  ;  "  and  it  was  more 
than  whispered,  by  the  gossips  of  her  day,  that,  like  Rob  Roy, 
she  levied  black  mail  on  her  less  powerful  neighbors. 

Near  the  cathedral  is  one  of  the  finest  monumental  round- 
towers  of  Ireland,  108  feet  in  height  and  in  perfect  preservation  ; 
though  like  all  these  solitary  towers,  its  use  is  yet  enveloped  in 
mystery.  No  place  of  Ireland  presents  a  better  opportunity  of 
research  for  the  lover  of  antiquities  than  the  county  of  Kilkenny, 
for  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  here  ruins  abound.  A  writer 
in  "  Hall's  Hibernia  "  says  :  — 

So  numerous  are  church  ruins  in  this  region,  that  on  our  way 
we  were  guided  through  numerous  alleys  and  by-lanes,  to  examine 
relics  of  the  olden  time.  We  found  wretched  hovels  propped  up 
by  carved  pillars:  and  in  several  instances  discovered  Gothic  door- 
ways converted  into  pigstyes. 

This  was  not  quite  our  experience.  Our  impressions  were  that 
the  town,  in  the  English  part,  was  business-like  and  attractive, 
the  streets  clean  and  well  paved,  and  the  inhabitants  well  dressed. 
In  the  Irish  portion  there  was  the  usual  quota  of  one-story 
houses,  and  a  poor  population. 

The  Roman  Catholic  Church,  recently  built,  is  an  elegant 
structure,  with  lofty  towers  and  spires  above  them,  and  stands, 
as  viewed  from  the  railroad,  at  about  the  centre  of  the  place. 

Kilkenny  is  celebrated  as  the  seat  of  witchcraft  trials.  One  of 
the  most  remarkable  was  that  of  Lady  Alice   Kettel  in    1325. 


KILKENNY.  65 

There  were,  however,  but  three  executions.  It  should  in  justice 
to  Ireland  be  said  that,  with  all  its  superstitions,  it  had  compara- 
tively few  inhabitants  who  were  barbarous  enough  to  force 
presumed  witches  to  trial.  New  England  was  more  than  her 
equal.  Aside  from  these  three  at  Kilkenny,  there  was  but  one 
such  execution  in  all  Ireland ;  and  that  was  at  Antrim,  in  1699, 
seven  years  after  the  first  appearance  of  the  delusion  in  New 
England,  which  occurred  at  the  house  of  Rev.  Mr.  Parris,  in  Salem, 
in  1692.  The  Antrim  trial  was  the  last,  and  was  told  as  a  story 
in  pamphlet  form,  entitled,  "  The  Bewitching  of  a  Child  in  Ire- 
land." It  had  a  large  circulation,  and  was  foolishly  copied  by 
Professor  Sinclair  into  his  work  entitled  "  Satan's  Invisible  World 
Discovered ;  "  and  is  frequently  referred  to  by  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
in  his  "  Letters  on  Demonology."  While  speaking  of  Sir  Walter, 
we  are  reminded  of  the  fact  that  Kilkenny,  as  well  as  Melrose 
had  its  Sir  Walter.  His  name  was  John  Banim.  He  wielded  a 
facile  pen,  had  a  peculiar  temperament,  and  represented  the 
character  of  his  country  and  its  people  with  more  fidelity  and 
interest,  if  not  romantic  effect,  than  any  other  Irish  novelist. 

We  are  admonished  that  we  must  here  end  our  talk  about  this 
lovely  Kilkenny ;  and,  as  we  turn  once  more  for  a  final  view  as 
our  train  moves  away  from  the  station,  it  is  not  without  feelings 
allied  to  those  which  Longfellow  describes  in  his  own  sweet 
way  :  — 

A  feeling  of  sadness  and  longing, 
That  is  not  akin  to  pain, 

And  resembles  sorrow  only 
As  the  mist  resembles  the  rain. 

We  are  fully  aware  that  we  have  not  often  spoken  of  Roman 
Catholic  churches,  cathedrals,  nunneries,  and  schools  ;  and  at 
first  sight  it  would  appear  that  in  this  Catholic  country  more  at- 
tention should  have  been  paid  to  these  things  ;  but  recognizing 
the  narrow  space  that  could  with  propriety  be  devoted  to  anyone 
place,  we  have  reluctantly  had  to  forego  the  pleasure  of  describing 
many  points  of  interest.  The  reader  may  rest  assured  that  it 
would  have  given  us  unalloyed  pleasure  to  speak  of  hospitals, 
charity-schools,  asylums,  almshouses,  and  a  thousand  charitable 
institutions  we  saw  and  heard  of.  All  these  abound.  That 
kind-heartedness,  so  characteristic  of  the  Irish  nature  ;  that 
hospitality  which  is  part  of  their  being,  making  their  houses,  large 
or  small,  in  Ireland  or  America,  hospitals,  asylums,  or  hotels,  — 
these  qualities  show  themselves,  in  1  onstant  and  varying  forms,  in 
buildings  designed  as  comfortable  retreats  for  the  unfortunate. 

5 


66  IRELAND. 

Descriptions  have  been  given  only  of  such  buildings  as  are  of 
remarkable  antiquity,  and  possessed  of  more  than  ordinary 
interest.  At  best,  these  chapters  can  only  be  a  brief  and  meagre 
svnopsis  of  an  inexhaustible  store;  but  perhaps  they  will  tempt 
the  reader  to  consult  the  more  elaborate  thought  of  others,  as 
found  in  histories  and  gazetteers.  No  more  comfortable  road 
up  the  hill  of  general  knowledge  exists,  than  that  which  one 
travels  while  reading  such  works.  In  the  former,  and  measurably 
in  the  latter,  he  finds  truth  stranger  than  fiction,  and  romance 
supported  by  an  obscured  reality,  at  once  enchanting  and  almost 
incredible. 

In  passing  over  the  roads  from  place  to  place  there  is 
one  continual  panorama  of  interesting  objects,  each  of  which 
is  out  of  the  usual  line  of  observation  of  such  travellers  as 
ourselves,  —  Americans,  Yankees,  with  New  England  lineage  and 
descent  through  a  line  of  more  than  a  hundred  years.  These 
scenes  are  so  interesting  that  hundreds  of  chapters  might  be 
written  about  them  ;  and  when  the  work  ended,  description 
proper  would  be  just  begun. 

What  novel  can  be  more  interesting,  or  what  entertainment 
more  enchanting,  than  to  read  about  Galbally,  where  a  monastery 
was  founded,  as  early  as  1 204,  for  the  Grayfriars,  by  a  member 
of  the  celebrated  family  of  O'Brien.  It  justly  boasts  of  its  beau- 
tiful Glen  Aherlow,  eight  miles  long  and  two  wide,  which  truthful 
descriptions  say,  is  not  surpassed  in  interest  by  anything  in  the 
country.  It  has  also  a  Druidical  Temple,  consisting  of  three 
circles  of  stone,  the  principal  one  of  which  is  150  feet  in  diame- 
ter, consisting  of  forty  stones,  of  which  the  largest  is  13  feet  long, 
6  feet  wide,  and  4  feet  thick  ! 

The  Rock  of  Cashel,  but  twelve  miles  from  Limerick,  —  a  large 
lone  rock,  rising  boldly  out  of  a  plain,  —  is  of  world-wide  celeb- 
rity, by  reason  of  its  association  with  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing ruins  in  the  kingdom,  which  still  repose  on  its  summit,  — 
those  of  a  grand  castle,  held  by  the  chiefs  of  the  family  Hy  Dun- 
namoi,  now  called  O'Donohue.  They  consist  chiefly  of  a  round- 
tower,  ninety  feet  high ;  a  small  church  in  the  Norman  style, 
with  a  stone  roof;  a  cathedral  church,  in  Gothic  style;  and 
a  castle  and  monastery  ;  and  yet  in  addition,  are  the  fine  ruins  of 
Hore  Abbey  at  the  base  of  the  rock.  Let  the  intelligent  reader 
know  of  these,  and  he  has  at  hand  strange  and  enchanting 
romances  in  no  way  inferior  to  "  Kenilworth,"  or  "  The  Lady  of 
the  Lake." 

We  shall  be  pardoned  for  seeming  egotism  when  we  name 


DUBLIN.  67 

Loughmore  Castle,  —  a  fine  old  building  in  ruins,  showing  yet  a 
massive  castellated  front,  with  strong  square  towers  at  each  end, 
the  one  at  the  right  being  of  great  antiquity,  the  remainder 
having  been  built  in  the  sixteenth  century.  On  the  opposite  side 
are  the  church  and  chapel  of  Loughmore.  The  estate  was  long 
the  seat  of  the  Purcells,  from  whom,  in  a  maternal  line,  has 
probably  descended  one  of  the  authors  of  this  volume. 

Let  our  investigator  continue  his  research,  and  he  will  be  in- 
formed of  the  remarkable  ruins  of  Kildare,  thirty  miles  out  from 
Dublin,  among  which  is  the  Chapel  of  St.  Brigid,  called  the  Fire- 
house,  it  being  the  locality  of  the  perennial  fire  which  the  nuns 
maintained  day  and  night,  during  a  thousand  years,  for  the 
benefit  of  strangers  and  the  poor.  A  thousand  years  of  never 
extinguished  charity-fire  !  How  incomprehensible  the  fact  and 
story  ! 

Ireland  is  indeed  a  land  of  romance,  which  is  merged  in  the 
obscurities  of  a  time  which  the  records  of  man  do  not  reach  or 
measure.  Superstition  and  general  ignorance  long  prevailed, 
but  the  temperament  and  organism  of  the  race  have  made  a 
history  peculiar  to  itself.  There 's  a  deal  of  strength  and 
nationality  in  the  blood.  Dilute  it,  generation  after  generation, 
and  its  idiosyncracies  are  still  there.  Where  can  romance  inhere, 
if  not  in  conditions  like  these  ?  What,  if  not  legends  of  fairies, 
visions,  miracles,  could  result  from  the  operations  of  this  religious 
turn  of  mind,  and  its  accompanying  superstitious  beliefs  ?  Castle, 
church,  monastery,  abbey,  tower,  must  come  into  being ;  and 
their  convictions  were  so  influential  that  these  people  "  builded 
better  than  they  knew." 

We  arrive  at  Maryboro  at  7.30  p.  m.,  and  here  we  meet  with 
our  first  and  last  experience  of  a  tardy  train,  which  is  an  hour  and 
a  half  late  at  a  junction.  We  remained  over  night  at  Borland's 
Hotel,  paying  for  supper,  lodging,  and  breakfast,  $1.50  apiece. 
At  8.40  a.  m.  next  day,  May  2,  took  train  for  Dublin  again, 
arriving  at  1 1  a.  m.  This  was  to  be  our  last  day  in  Erin,  and  so 
we  went  directly  to  the  steamer  Longford  and  engaged  "  passage 
out  of  Ireland,"  paying  for  the  passage  to  Liverpool  $2.37  each. 
And  now  for  one  more  tramp  over  the  Irish  metropolis. 

We  had  been  informed  of  the  completion  of  Christ  Church 
Cathedral,  and  that  on  this  day  the  great  public  opening  was  to 
take  place.  We  soon  discovered  that  we  were  unfortunate  in 
not  being  one  of  the  dignitaries,  as  they  only  had  tickets  of 
admission.  But  no  Yankee  of  good  Mood  would  be  three 
thousand  miles  from  home,  and  lose  a  sight  on  which  a  million 


68  IRELAND. 

dollars  had  been  expended  ;  and  so,  with  as  much  faith  that  we 
should  gain  admission  to  their  building,  as  most  of  the  prelates 
perhaps  had  of  one  day  entering  "  the  house  not  made  with 
hands,"  we  made  our  demand,  and  were  of  course  repulsed. 
Remembering  the  daring  of  Strongbow,  whose  bones  were  repos- 
ing inside  the  cathedral,  and  that  we  were  of  Irish  extraction, 
we  were  emboldened,  and  bethought  ourselves  of  who  we  were  ; 
for,  like  one  of  old,  we  were  citizens  "  of  no  mean  country,"  and 
were  ready  to  fight  spiritually  with  the  beasts  of  Ephesus.  We 
made  an  effort,  and  came  off  conquerors.  "  Americans,"  said 
we.  That  was  the  charm  which  held  the  attention  of  the  official, 
robed  and  consequential,  with  whom  we  talked,  and  who  was 
moved  by  that  talismanic  word.  Although  he  had  refused,  and 
with  righteous  indignation  declared  he  could  not  —  and  perhaps 
felt  that  he  would  not  —  let  us  in  ;  yet,  as  soon  as  he  knew  who 
we  were,  he  came  down  from  his  lofty  position  and  the  cathe- 
dral door  swung  open.  His  whole  being  was  filled  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  good  of  which  he  was  the  happy  author. 
We  complacently  bowed  our  compliments,  as  all  triumphing 
Americans  should  do  ;  then  we  went  in  and  surveyed  every- 
thing, and  h>due  time  were  out  and  taking  our  last  look  of  the 
city. 

At  6  p.  M.  we  were  on  board  our  steamer  ;  and  soon  she  steamed 
out  of  the  harbor  and  into  the  bay  and  channel,  and  we  were 
once  more  on  the  briny  deep.  A  pleasant  sail,  and  a  compara- 
tively quiet  one,  landed  us  at  7  a.  m.,  on  Saturday,  May  3,  on 
the  soil  of  Old  England. 

We  have  with  comparative  thoroughness  —  that  is,  for  a  tour- 
ist's statement  —  given  an  account  of  Old  Ireland;  and  now, 
before  we  begin  our  similar  account  of  Old  England,  we  think 
it  well  to  add  a  page  or  two  more,  and  give  a  few  leading 
points  in  regard  to  Ireland  as  a  whole  ;  for  in  these  chapters, 
be  it  anew  remembered,  we  are  to  try  and  give  such  incidental 
information  as  will  be  useful  as  well  as  entertaining  to  the  gen- 
eral reader,  so  that  he  will  know  more  of  the  country  than  he 
would  learn  from  mere  statements  about  a  few  things  we 
chanced  to  see. 

As  is  well  known,  the  Emerald  Isle  —  so  called  from  the  lux- 
uriance of  vegetation  induced  by  a  mild  and  moist  climate  —  is 
one  of  the  four  divisions  of  Great  Britain,  England,  Wales,  and 
Scotland  being  the  others.  It  is  separated  from  England  by  the 
Irish  Sea  and  St.  George's  Channel,  and  contains  an  area  of  32,53 1 
square  miles.    This  is  not  far  from  the  size  of  the  State  of  Maine, 


DUBLIN.  69 

which  contains  35,000.  Ireland  is  divided  into  four  provinces, 
Leinster,  Munster,  Ulster,  and  Connaught,  and  these  comprise 
thirty-two  counties.  Its  greatest  population  was  in  1841,  when 
it  amounted  to  8,199,853.  During  the  next  ten  years,  owing 
to  famine  and  emigration,  it  decreased  1,600,000,  that  is  to 
6,599,853  ;  and  this  was  about  200,000  less  than  in  1821,  when 
the  first  census  was  taken.  The  number  of  inhabited  houses  in 
1861  was  995,156;  in  ten  years  they  decreased  to  960,352. 
The  average  number  of  persons  to  a  house  was  seven,  giving 
for  1 87 1  a  population  of  6,722,464.  This  is  not  far  from  the 
present  population,  which  is  more  than  ten  times  that  of  the 
State  of  Maine,  626,915,  and  twice  that  of  all  New  England, 
3,487,924.  As  New  England  has  68,460  miles  of  surface,  and 
Ireland  32,531,  it  follows  that  the  latter  has  about  four  times  as 
many  persons  to  the  square  mile  as  the  former. 

Ireland  has  ninety-two  harbors  and  sixty-two  lighthouses. 
There  are  in  all  2,830,000  acres  of  bog  land  that  is  available 
for  fuel,  or  about  one  seventh  of  all  the  island.  At  Dublin  the 
mean  temperature  for  the  year  is  fifty  degrees,  which  is  seven 
degrees  warmer  than  the  average  of  Boston ;  and  there  is  an 
average  of  but  three  degrees  of  difference  between  the  extreme 
northern  and  southern  parts.  There  is  a  perpetual  moisture, 
which  induces  vegetation  and  maintains  unfailing  pasturage.  This 
is  due  to  the  prevalence  of  westerly  winds,  which  bring  with  them 
the  warm  moist  atmosphere  of  the  Gulf  Stream.  The  average 
rainfall  is  thirty-six  inches,  or  about  six  inches  less  than  at 
Boston. 

Ireland  boasts  of  great  antiquity.  We  will,  however,  speak  of 
it  only  from  the  time  of  St.  Patrick,  who  was  sent  here  by  Ger- 
manus  of  Rome,  to  convert  the  people  to  Christianity.  He 
arrived  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century,  and  died  in  493, 
leaving  the  island  nominally  Christian.  Schools  and  monas- 
teries were  established  ;  and  so  noted  did  the  country  become 
for  the  learning  and  piety  of  its  ecclesiastics,  that  it  was  called 
Insula  Sanctorum,  Isle  of  Saints.  In  the  year  646  many 
Anglo  Saxons  settled  on  the  island,  and  in  684  it  had  become 
of  sufficient  importance  to  be  invaded  by  Egfrid,  king  of  North- 
umberland, who  destroyed  churches  and  monasteries.  From 
this  time  invasions  were  common.  In  1002  Brian  Born,  who 
was  king  of  the  province  of  Munster,  was  powerful  enough  to 
expel  the  Danes  who  had  come  in,  and  was  crowned  at  Jam, 
"  King  of  all  Ireland."  Hence  Moore's  poem,  "The  Harp  that 
once  through  Tara's  Halls." 


70  IRELAND. 

Brian  Bom  wrought  great  reforms,  for  he  founded  churches 
and  schools,  opened  roads,  built  bridges,  and  fitted  out  fleets. 
He  introduced  surnames,  heretofore  not  in  use,  and  made  the 
marriage  contract  permanent.  The  Danes  again  invaded  Ire- 
land in  1014;  and  on  Good  Friday  —  April  23,  of  that  year  — 
Brian,  an  old  man  of  eighty  years,  was  killed  in  his  tent,  although 
his  party  had  triumphed. 

Internal  dissensions  and  civil  wars  followed.  The  island  soon 
fell  into  a  state  of  degeneracy,  and  lost  its  good  character  as  the 
Isle  of  Saints.  St.  Bernard  called  the  attention  of  the  Church 
authorities  of  Rome  to  its  condition,  and  Pope  Eugenius  III. 
sent  Cardinal  Papiron  to  restore  discipline.  In  March,  115  2, 
a  synod  was  held  at  Kells,  when  the  supremacy  of  Rome  was 
acknowledged,  and  the  archbishoprics  of  Dublin  and  of  Tuam 
were  established.  In  1 155  a  bull  is  said  to  have  been  issued 
by  Pope  Adrian  IV.  conferring  the  sovereignty  of  Ireland  on 
Henry  II.  of  England.  Next  came  invasions  by  two  bands  of 
Normans,  one  under  Robert  Fitzstephen  in  n  69,  and  another 
under  Earl  Pembroke  (Strongbow)  in  the  same  year.  Henry  II. 
issued  a  proclamation  recalling  Strongbow,  and  all  Englishmen, 
under  pain  of  outlawry.  Then  there  was  a  series  of  interesting 
battles,  sometimes  one  party  being  successful,  and  sometimes 
the  other. 

In  1341  Edward  III.  ordered  that  all  offices  held  by  Irishmen, 
or  by  Englishmen  who  had  estates  or  wives  in  Ireland,  should 
be  vacated,  and  filled  by  Englishmen  who  had  no  personal  inter- 
est whatever  in  the  Green  Isle.  Great  resistance  and  trouble 
followed,  and  the  English  triumphed. 

A  parliament  was  held  in  Dublin  in  1537,  when  the  Act  of 
Supremacy  was  passed,  declaring  Henry  VIII.  supreme  head 
of  the  Church,  prohibiting  intercourse  with  the  court  of  Rome, 
and  making  it  treason  to  refuse  the  oath  of  supremacy.  Then 
began  a  new  series  of  wars  and  troubles.  Each  subsequent  page 
of  history  is  stained  with  blood.  Insurrections  and  resistance 
were  oft  repeated.  Finally,  in  1 798,  new  battles  were  fought, 
the  English  being  in  the  end  victorious.  The  next  year  a  bill 
of  amnesty  was  passed,  and  the  country  settled  down  into 
comparative  quiet.  Jan.  1,  1801,  Articles  of  Union  were  agreed 
upon,  and  from  then  till  now,  with  occasional  outbreaks  and 
riots,  England  has  maintained  her  hold.  Much  of  the  work 
done  by  Henry  VIII.  has  been  good  in  its  results;  but  much 
has  proved  to  be  wrong  in  the  extreme.  The  principle  of 
entailing  landed  estates  tends  to  impoverish  the  people,  drive 


DUBLIN.  71 

them  to  emigration,  and  so  depopulate  the  country.  These  are 
the  seeds  of  decay  for  not  only  Ireland,  but  for  England  herself. 
It  is  a  wrong  "  so  rank  it  smells  to  heaven,"  and  deliverance  is 
sure  to  come.  And  now,  we  bid  adieu  to  Ireland,  where  we 
have  enjoyed  so  much,  and  for  whose  good  time  coming  we 
watch  and  wait  in  sympathy  with  her  sons. 


ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  V. 

LIVERPOOL  —  CHESTER  —  SHREWSBURY  —  WORCESTER  — 
HEREFORD. 

STEAMERS  leave  Dublin  every  week-night  for  Liverpool, 
as  they  do  Fall  River  for  New  York,  and  the  distance  is 
about  the  same.  It  involves  a  trip  of  a  few  miles  out  of 
Dublin  harbor  and  bay,  across  St.  George's  channel,  and  four 
miles  up  the  River  Mersey  at  the  other  end.  It  is  an  English 
custom  to  put  the  name  of  the  river  last,  while  Americans  put 
it  first.  It  would  sound  very  odd  to  an  American  to  hear  the 
remark  River  Ohio  or  River  Mississippi ;  and  so  it  would  to  an 
Englishman,  to  hear  the  expression  Thames  River. 

Every  wise  tourist,  on  visiting  New  York  for  the  first  time,  is 
on  deck  early  to  see  the  approaches  to  the  harbor,  and  the 
scenery  below  the  city.  One  visiting  Liverpool  will  do  likewise  ; 
for  this  is  to  be  his  first  view  of  the  Mother  Country.  We  were 
on  our  steamer's  deck  at  5  o'clock  a.  m.,  on  Friday  morning, 
May  3.  In  the  distance,  on  our  right,  towered  up,  though 
somewhat  obscurely,  the  bold  headland  of  Holyhead,  a  part  of 
Wales.  As  we  approach  it  we  discover  the  great  gorge  in  the 
rock,  and  the  bridge  over  it,  and  also  the  white  lighthouse  and 
long,  substantial  breakwater  for  the  defence  of  the  harbor. 
Sweeping  in  a  curved  course  to  the  southeastward  we  see  the 
Welsh  high  uplands,  with  their  thrifty  farms  and  many  windmills. 
Behind  these,  as  a  splendid  background,  the  Welsh  mountains 
loom  up,  and  the  peaks  of  Snowden  and  other  highlands  show 
themselves. 

We  now  pass  an  interesting  object,  —  an  assemblage  of  rocks 
called  the  Skerries,  three  miles  or  so  distant  from  the  Welsh 
shore.  They  are  very  dangerous,  and  are  lighted,  being  directly 
in  the  way  of  passage  to  the  River  Mersey.  Next  we  arrive  at 
Point  Lynas,  the  pilot-station  for  Liverpool.  Near  it  is  Orme's 
Head,  a  rough  promontory  on  which  is  a  lighthouse,  having  a 
Fre  lid  light,  one  of  the  most  powerful  in  the  world.  To  add 
to  the  picturesqueriess  of  the  scenery,  here  and  there  are  little 


76  ENGLAND. 

Welsh  villages,  cosily  situated,  and  nestling  at  the  base  of  the 
hills.  Among  them  is  Llandudno  and  the  watering-places ; 
and  so  we  anticipate  a  higher  type  of  civilization,  signs  of  which 
are  on  every  hand. 

Not  far  from  the  mouth  of  the  Mersey,  fresh  evidences  of 
commercial  life  present  themselves.  Steamers,  pilot-boats,  and 
tugs  thicken,  and  we  know  we  are  nearing  a  port  of  no  ordinary 
importance.  We  pass  the  Northwest  Lightship,  and  soon  after 
hear  the  bell-buoy  on  the  bar  sending  out  its  plaintive  warning 
as  it  pitches  and  rolls.  Like  faithful  sentinels  are  Formby  and 
Crosby  lightships ;  and  at  the  right  is  Rock  Light,  at  New 
Brighton. 

This  place  is  the  end  of  the  peninsula,  which  for  five  miles 
stretches  down  the  river,  and  is  the  shore  opposite  Liverpool 
and  its  suburbs.  It  is  a  pleasant  and  cheap  watering-place, 
and  one  much  sought  by  the  common  people.  Steamboats 
from  Liverpool  run  half-hourly  between  the  places.  New 
Brighton  has  a  good  beach,  and  there  are  many  restaurants 
along  the  upper  side.  An  old  stone  fort  is  one  of  the  objects 
of  interest,  and  free  to  visitors.  On  any  fair  day  may  be  seen 
thousands  of  people  promenading  over  the  beach,  or  riding 
in  teams  or  on  Irish  donkeys,  which  are  at  various  stations 
ready  for  hire,  most  of  them  owned  by  aged  men  and  women, 
and  let  for  a  single  ride  or  by  the  hour.  Here  are  stands  for 
the  sale  of  round  clams  (quahaugs,  as  we  call  them),  muscles, 
periwinkles,  and,  it  may  be,  a  few  poor  oysters.  There  are 
also  cheap  refreshment  tables,  and  facilities  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  children,  such  as  Punch  and  Judy,  swings,  revolving 
horses.  From  this  place,  along  the  right  bank  of  the  river, 
the  landscape  is  diversified  with  low  hills,  clean  fields,  woods, 
and  groves,  with  here  and  there  a  little  settlement.  Opposite 
the  city  proper  lies  Birkenhead,  a  busy  place,  with  docks  and 
shipping,  of  its  own,  and  a  population  of  65,980.  In  181 8 
Birkenhead  had  but  fifty  inhabitants,  but  they  have  trebled  since 
185 1,  a  rapidity  seldom  witnessed  in  the  Old  World. 

Up  the  Mersey  on  the  left  side,  the  landscape  is  picturesque 
and  rural.  Along  the  river,  on  comparatively  level  land,  with 
a  slight  rise  at  the  rear,  and  some  especially  elevated  points  at 
the  extreme  upper  end,  lies  the  substantial  and  sombre  city  of 
Liverpool.  It  has  literally  forests  of  masts.  There  are  no 
wharves  extending  into  the  river,  but  at  stated  intervals  are 
openings  into  the  famous  docks.  These  are  controlled  by 
oaken  gates,  of  which  there  are  eight  in  all,  some  of  them  a 


LIVERPOOL.  77 

hundred  feet  wide.  They  are  opened  and  closed  twice  daily, 
at  turns  of  the  tide.  The  docks  are  built  of  hewn  stone,  the 
oldest  of  a  perishable  sandstone,  but  the  newer  of  granite. 
They  are  built  somewhat  in  the  rear  of  the  outer  or  river 
docks,  and  open  into  each  other.  The  spaces  between  them 
are  used  like  our  wharves,  as  sites  for  large  warehouses  and 
sheds  of  deposit.  These  docks  and  landing-places  extend  five 
miles  on  the  Liverpool  side  of  the  river,  and  two  miles  on  the 
Birkenhead  side.  In  the  aggregate,  the  docks  cover  404  acres, 
or  about  two  thirds  of  a  square  mile.  The  aggregate  length  of 
the  wharf  space  is  sixteen  miles  on  the  Liverpool  side,  and  ten 
miles  at  Birkenhead.  The  cost  was  $50,000,000,  $35,000,000 
of  which  was  expended  at  Liverpool.  The  Landing  Stage,  as 
it  is  called,  where  passage  is  taken  to  the  steamers,  is  an  enor- 
mous floating  platform,  supported  on  iron  tanks,  and  is  along 
the  business  centre  of  the  city,  outside  of  the  main  street  or 
sea-wall,  which  is  five  miles  long,  eleven  feet  thick,  and  forty 
feet  in  average  height  from  its  foundations. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  Liverpool  had  but 
one  dock;  but  between  1830  and  i860,  over  twenty-five  new 
ones  were  opened. 

The  place  is  of  considerable  antiquity,  and  is  first  spoken  of, 
in  any  authentic  record,  in  a  charter  of  Henry  II.,  bearing  date 
1 1 73,  by  which  document  the  privileges  of  a  seaport  were 
secured;  and  in  1207  King  John  granted  it  a  municipal 
charter.  Henry  III.  constituted  it  a  free  borough  in  1229. 
It  made  but  little  progress  for  centuries,  and  was  a  scene  of 
sanguinary  conflict  in  1644,  for  during  the  contest  between 
Charles  I.  and  his  Parliament,  this  place  resisted  the  King. 
After  a  month's  determined  opposition,  it  was  taken  by  Prince 
Rupert,  and  was  soon  afterwards  largely  reduced  in  population 
by  pestilence  and  famine.  In  1699  it  had  not  more  than  five 
thousand  inhabitants. 

There  is  no  other  foreign  city  so  influenced  by  the  United 
States.  Its  condition,  advancement,  and  progress  have  been  in 
proportion  to  our  advancement ;  for  upon  the  fluctuations  of 
trade  it  has,  for  a  third  of  a  century,  been  somewhat  dependent. 
The  general  look  of  the  city  is  like  that  of  the  older  parts  of 
New  York  or  Boston,  which  it  resembles  more  than  it  does  any 
place  in  Europe. 

Its  streets  are  generally  wide,  clean,  and  are  always  well 
paved.  Its  buildings  are  very  substantial.  They  are  of  brick 
or  stone  ;  but  from  the  large  amount  of  smoke  from  the  bitumi- 


78  ENGLAND. 

nous  coal,  and  the  damp,  and  —  in  winter  —  foggy  atmosphere, 
they  have  an  old  and  dingy  appearance.  Particularly  is  this 
true  of  most  of  the  churches,  with  their  square  towers.  The  city 
proper  has  few  scry  good  church  edifices;  but  it  has  many  old 
ones,  some  of  them  surrounded  by  burial-grounds,  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  city.  These  churchyards  are  not  only  treeless,  but 
they  are  without  shrubs,  or  even  grass.  An  acre  is  sometimes 
covered  with  slabs  of  stone,  level  with  the  ground.  They  are 
about  three  feet  wide  and  six  long,  set  close  together,  with 
hardly  a  crevice,  and  on  them  are  cut  the  epitaphs. 

St.  George's  Hall,  a  colossal  and  superb  structure,  has  one  of 
the  largest  organs  in  the  world,  and  exhibitions  of  it  are  given 
two  or  three  times  a  week  for  the  small  admission  fee  of  a  six- 
pence (twelve  cents).  At  the  time  of  our  visit,  there  were  full 
one  thousand  people  present.  It  has  a  good  art-gallery,  in 
which  are  many  fine  paintings  by  the  Masters. 

Drunkenness  abounds.  In  no  other  place  did  we  see  so 
much  drunkenness  or  so  many  rum  shops.  A  visit  to  the 
police  court,  and  a  stay  of  a  couple  of  hours  there,  exhibited 
more  inebriation,  poverty,  and  destitution  than  we  could  im- 
agine as  existing  as  we  walked  through  the  streets  of  the  city. 
We  were  informed  by  the  judge  that  he  had  on  his  book  one 
hundred  and  ninety-four  cases  for  drunkenness  alone,  or  crimes 
growing  immediately  out  of  it;  and  that,  in  some  way  all  must 
be  disposed  of  that  day,  as  to-morrow  was  likely  to  bring  as 
many  or  more.  Some  offenders  had  been  before  his  court  over 
sixty  times.  Such  victims  were  released,  as  would  be  so  many 
wild  animals  or  lepers,  the  kind-hearted  judge  simply  lecturing 
them,  and  expressing  his  sorrow  for  what  in  these  years  he  had 
been  compelled  to  witness  daily.  He  was  humane  in  all  his 
considerations.  We  could  but  tell  him  that  he  was  a  remark- 
able man,  to  be  able  for  years  to  be  in  the  presence  of  this 
mass  of  evil  and  degradation,  and  not  become  hardened  in 
feeling,  but  retain  a  sympathetic  yet  judicious  determination 
and  manhood.  Never  did  a  case  occur  where  with  more  pro- 
priety the  old  remark  might  be  justly  made,  "  the  right  man  in 
the  right  place."  We  went  away  somewhat  sad,  as  we  thought 
of  the  upright  judge's  remark,  made  so  innocently,  that  we 
intelligent  Americans  prohibited  this  evil  and  governed  it  bet- 
ter than  did  the  people  of  England.  Said  he  :  "  Close  up 
the  rum  shops  as  your  people  do,  and  my  occupation  would 
end."  Alas !  Would  that  we  did  thus  close  them,  for  so 
would  most  of  our  judges'  occupations  be  gone.     But  no  !    In 


CHESTER.  79 

enlightened  Boston  there  are  churches,  schoolhouses,  and 
asylums,  —  and  thousands  of  vile  rumholes  sandwiched  be- 
tween, making  void  the  good  done  by  the  former,  and  furnish- 
ing inmates  for  station-house  and  prison. 

The  suburbs  of  Liverpool  are  very  fine,  and  in  appearance 
much  like  those  of  Boston.  Horse-cars  and  omnibuses  con- 
stantly ply  between  the  city  and  these  places.  Sefton  Park  is 
inexpressibly  fine  in  itself,  and  in  its  distant  rural  scenery  ;  and 
Toxton  (Brookline,  we  might  consider  it)  is  of  great  rural 
beauty.  The  distant  view  of  the  old  red  church  tower,  cathe- 
dral-like and  grand,  situated  on  elevated  ground,  peering  .up  out 
of  shade-trees  that  obscured  other  parts  of  the  building,  and 
even  the  larger  portion  of  the  village  itself;  small  lakes  gleaming 
in  the  sun  ;  the  evidence  of  high  civilization,  —  made  us  long 
to  see  more  of  Old  England,  —  of  these  "sweet  Auburns," 
lovely  villages  of  the  plain ;  and  we  were  soon  gratified,  for  at 
2. 20  o'clock  p.  m.,  Saturday,  we  took  cars  for  the  city  of 

CHESTER. 

Who  that  travels  would  risk  his  reputation  as  a  person  of 
taste,  and  not  go  to  Chester?  A  fare  of  $1.50  each  brought  us 
to  this  Mecca ;  for  as  the  Jews  of  old  must  go  to  Mt.  Zion, 
so  must  the  England-visiting  American  go  to  Chester.  First,  a 
few  words  about  the  city  itself;  and  here  the  brain  acts  slug- 
gishly, and  the  pen  rebels  at  the  thought  of  describing  what  has 
been  described  so  many  times  before.  We  arrived  after  an 
hour  and  forty  minutes'  ride  from  Liverpool. 

Chester  is  the  capital  of  Cheshire,  and  is  situated  on  the  River 
Dee,  with  a  population  of  35,701.  It  was  a  Roman  station 
known  as  Deva  Castra.  It  is  nearly  surrounded  by  the  river, 
and  the  original  portion  of  the  city  is  encompassed  with  an 
ancient  wall  having  low  towers  at  special  points.  This  wall  is  in 
perfect  condition,  and  is  the  best  specimen  of  its  kind  in  all 
England.  The  foundations  are  Roman,  and  part  of  this  work 
is  visible,  and  is  an  item  of  much  interest.  The  upper  portions, 
resting  on  the  Roman  base,  date  from  the  time  of  Edward  I., 
who  was  born  at  Westminster  in  1239,  and  died  1307  ;  and  so 
the  wall  is  nearly  six  hundred  years  old.  It  is  about  eight  feet 
thick  at  the  top,  and  varies  in  thickness  at  the  bottom  according 
to  its  height,  which,  of  course,  is  determined  by  the  irregular 
surface  of  the  land.  The  space  enclosed  is  a  parallelogram, 
planned  like  all  Roman  camps,  with  a  gate  or  entrance  in  the 


80  ENGLAND. 

middle  of  each  of  the  four  sides,  the  main  streets  intersecting 
at  the  centre  of  the  town. 

There  are  at  stated  intervals  stone  stairs,  leading  up  to  the 
walk  at  the  top  of  the  wall,  and  this  is  a  common  promenade 
for  the  public,  and  more  especially  for  strangers,  as  from  this 
elevation,  a  large  portion  of  the  entire  city  is  seen,  and  the  view 
of  the  outside  scenery  is  most  enchanting. 

There  are  streets,  and  a  busy  population  of  dwellers  on  both 
sides  of  the  walls.  Here,  too,  is  a  noble  field  called  Grosvenor 
Tark,  many  acres  in  extent,  used  as  pleasure-grounds  for  the 
public,  or  as  a  parade  for  soldiers,  whose  barracks  are  near.  As 
a  background,  bordering  it,  half  a  mile  away,  are  the  grounds 
of  fine  mansions,  half  embowered  with  trees.  As  we  pass  around 
to  the  left,  we  see  the  muddy  banks  and  meadow-like  borders  of 
the  River  Dee.  Opposite  this,  making  the  other  shore,  is  a 
dirty  fishing-town,  with  its  principal  street  extending  up  from 
the  river.  This  is  called  Sty  Lane,  —  at  least  by  some  people. 
Here  we  saw  from  the  walls,  where  we  were  walking,  a  Hogarth- 
like nest  of  dilapidated  buildings  and  destitution.  There  were 
the  sights  and  sounds  of  a  veritable  Saturday-night  row,  in  which 
men,  women,  and  children  were  promiscuously  mingled.  It  was 
a  good  specimen  of  a  bad  original.  After  a  sight  like  this,  we 
were  inclined  to  give  Hogarth  less  credit  as  an  inventor  than 
we  had  before  done  ;  for  he  had  sights  worthy  his  pencil  at 
hand,  without  an  effort  of  his  imagination. 

Continuing  our  walk  along  to  where  the  river  runs  sluggishly 
beside  the  walls,  we  extend  our  delightful  tramp.  Encircling 
the  old  town  thus,  occupies  us  nearly  an  hour.  On  our  way, 
just  inside  the  walls,  are  ruins  of  small  lodges,  antique  and  ivy- 
clad  ;  and  on  the  top  of  the  wall  itself  is  a  little  tower,  on 
which  is  an  inscription,  cut  in  a  stone  tablet,  telling  that  from  its 
floor  King  Charles  I.  beheld  the  defeat  of  Rowton  Moor,  in 
1645.  These  walls  are  built  of  a  dark-reddish  stone,  well  laid 
in  white  mortar,  and  have  a  very  antiquated  appearance.  There 
is  a  breastwork,  or  parapet,  three  feet  high  on  each  side  for  pro- 
tection, and  capped  with  long,  rough-cut  stones.  Having  fin- 
ished our  circuit  we,  much  against  our  inclination,  go  down  one 
of  the  stairways,  and  into  the  street  within  the  walls,  where  we 
continue  our  explorations,  confessing  that  our  early  dislike  of  the 
task  of  wTiting  up  this  city  has  about  vanished.  So  marked  was 
the  early  impression  of  peculiar  interest  and  novelty,  and  so  fully 
satisfying  to  our  anticipations,  that  when  we  finally  left  the  city 
we  could  not   help   feeling  as  did  one  of  old  when  he  said, 


CHESTER.  81 

with  the  change  of  but  one  word,  —  "If  I  ever  forget  thee  O 
Chester,  may  my  right  hand  forget  her  cunning."  We  were  not 
the  first  Americans  who  have  thought  and  felt  thus ;  no  one  who 
has  ever  seen  Chester  will  or  can  forget  her.  The  cry  once  was, 
"  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians."  We  ejaculate  "  Great  is 
Chester  of  the  Britons." 

The  queer  old  streets  are  interesting  in  the  extreme.  Narrow 
and  short,  but  clean,  they  are  said  to  be  at  right-angles  with 
each  other ;  and  perhaps  they  are.  The  buildings  are  quaint, 
antique,  and  of  all  designs,  the  second  story  often  projecting 
beyond  the  first,  and  the  third  beyond  the  second,  and  the  gable 
end  out  over  that.  Their  general  appearance  so  attracts  atten- 
tion that  nothing  in  particular  is  noted,  so  far  as  relates  to  the 
arrangement  of  the  city  itself.  The  Rows,  as  they  are  called, 
that  is,  the  covered  sidewalks  in  the  older  and  business 
streets,  are  built  in  under  the  second  stories,  and  are  paved. 
The  different  store-sections  are  out  of  level,  each  with  its  neigh- 
bor, though  tolerably  level  through  the  length  of  the  entire 
streets.  Often  the  ceilings  of  these  walks  are  low  enough  to 
touch  with  the  hand  ;  generally  the  floor,  or  pavement,  is  raised 
from  two  to  four  feet  above  the  grade  of  the  street.  Of  course 
the  shops  are  back  of  these.  The  idea  is  not  a  bad  one.  In 
times  of  foul  weather  or  of  strong  sun,  the  Rows  are  protections. 
The  entire  width  between  the  buildings  being  given  to  teams, 
renders  it  much  safer  for  pedestrians. 

The  majority  of  the  buildings  are  built  with  their  ends  to  the 
street,  showing  gables  with  the  high  roof  or  attic  ends,  with 
elaborate  decorations,  and  these  afford  a  fine  opportunity  for  a 
display  of  quaint  finish.  Many  of  these  buildings  have  a  frame- 
work of  oak,  more  or  less  carved,  with  brickwork  fitted  into  the 
frame,  and  plastered  and  painted,  generally  with  subdued  tints. 
The  people  are  to  be  commended  for  the  good  taste  and  judg- 
ment displayed  in  their  rebuilding;  for  when  a  new  edifice 
takes  the  place  of  one  removed,  the  new  design,  while  it  may 
increase  the  height  of  the  stories,  and  add  other  real  improve- 
ments and  conveniences,  yet  preserves  the  old  style.  Chester 
is  a  lively,  bustling,  and  enterprising  business  place  —  a  gem  in 
its  way. 

Of  course  the  cathedral  comes  in  for  early  attention.  So  long 
as  Charles  Kingsley  —  Canon  Kingsley,  for  here  he  was  made 
canon  in  1869  —  is  remembered,  so  long  will  the  cathedral  be 
of  interest.  It  is  situated  in  the  very  centre  of  the  city.  Jammed 
in  among  other  buildings,  with  no  quiet  grass  and  aged  trees 

6 


82  ENGLAND. 

about  it,  the  pavements  lead  up  to  its  very  doors.  It  is  irregu- 
lar in  outline,  dark- reddish-brown  in  color,  aged  in  appearance, 
with  a  massive  low  tower,  but  no  spire  above  it.  The  transept, 
choir,  and  nave  windows  are  of  monstrous  size,  not  much  higher 
than  wide,  filled  with  elegant  perpendicular  Gothic  tracery,  and 
divided  into  many  compartments.  The  interior  is  in  good  re- 
pair,—  restored,  as  it  is  termed.  Here,  as  in  all  cathedrals, 
there  is  a  stone  floor,  and  hundreds  of  inscriptions  that  tell  of 
those  who  are  quietly  resting  beneath. 

"  Their  labors  done,  securely  laid 
In  this,  their  last  retreat, 
Unheeded  o'er  their  silent  dust 
The  storms  of  life  shall  beat." 

The  building  was  originally  the  abbey  of  St.  Werburgh,  built 
for  the  Benedictines,  —  begun  in  1095  by  Hugh  Lupus,  assisted 
by  St.  Anselm,  —  and  retains  its  original  design. 

The  next  object  of  interest,  and  one  truly  remarkable,  is  the 
church  of  St.  John,  once  the  cathedral.  It  is  situated  about 
five  minutes'  walk  away  from  the  cathedral  proper,  and,  unlike 
that,  stands  in  a  large  green,  or  close,  for  centuries  used  as  a 
burial-ground.  The  red  tower  is  very  high,  yet  without  a  spire, 
and  partly  in  ruins.  It  stands  almost  alone  in  solitary  beauty, 
with  picturesque  ivy-clad  cloisters  and  arches,  presenting  a 
striking  and  wonderful  group,  which  tells  of  the  remote  past. 
The  old  tower,  colossal  and  grand,  but  in  such  decay  as  to  make 
it  dangerous  to  ring  the  bells  (and  fallen  since  we  saw  it),  is 
connected  with  what  was  formerly  the  nave  of  the  church  ;  and 
this  is  now,  with  slight  additions  for  a  chancel,  all  that  is  used,  a 
new  end  having  years  ago  been  put  on  at  the  line  of  transepts. 
St.  John's  is  of  early  English  architecture  in  some  parts,  and 
late  Norman  in  others,  having  large,  plain,  round  columns  that 
carry  the  arches  of  the  clerestory.  These  columns  lean  out- 
ward from  the  perpendicular,  making  the  nave  wider  at  the  top, 
and  the  widening  was  thought  to  have  been  caused  by  a  settling 
of  the  old  stone  groining.  On  making  repairs  a  few  years  since, 
the  height  of  the  clerestory  walls  was  foolishly  reduced  some 
four  feet,  and  a  lower  wood  ceiling  put  in  to  lessen  the  weight 
on  the  columns  ;  but  it  was  at  length  discovered  that  the  original 
was  built  for  effect,  —  whether  for  good  or  for  ill,  we  will  not 
decide.  In  picturesqueness  never  excelled,  St.  John's  Church, 
with  its  grounds  and  accompanying  ruins,  not  only  divides  the 
honors  with  the  cathedral,  but  by  many  would  be  named  first. 


CHESTER.  83 

Chester  is  the  seat  of  rare  monuments  of  the  past.  The 
castle,  built  by  Lupus,  Earl  of  Chester,  seven  hundred  and  more 
years  ago,  while  it  has  been  largely  re-constructed,  is  used  as 
the  shire  hall,  and  contains  many  portraits  of  noted  men  who 
have  been  distinguished  in  the  city's  history.  Near  the  castle  is 
a  fine  old  stone  bridge  crossing  the  Dee,  with  a  single  arch  of 
two  hundred  feet.  There  is,  in  the  suburbs,  a  curious  manor- 
house,  once  belonging  to  the  abbey  of  St.  Werburgh ;  Eaton 
Hall,  the  seat  of  the  Marquis  of  Westminster ;  and  a  ground 
where  famous  races  are  held.  Cheese  fairs  occur  once  a  month, 
promiscuous  fairs  three  times  a  year,  and  markets  twice  a  week  ; 
and  the  city  gives  the  title  of  Earl  to  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

At  10  a.  m.  we  visited  the  military  barracks,  and  in  the  parade- 
ground,  with  thousands  of  other  spectators,  witnessed  the  usual 
Sunday  drill,  and  also  the  military  evolutions,  such  as  striking 
tents  and  stacking  arms.  Some  five  hundred  soldiers  were  en- 
gaged in  these  operations  on  this  Christian  Sunday,  made  espec- 
ially sacred  by  its  associations  with  the  Prince  of  Peace.  At  this 
hour,  amid  the  sound  of  innumerable  chimes  of  from  three  to 
five  bells  each,  were  the  intermingling  sound  of  trumpets  and  the 
clamor  of  war,  —  so  confused  yet  each  so  prominent  as  to  make 
one  doubt  which  had  the  inside  track,  church  or  army,  God  or 
Satan. 

In  the  afternoon  we  were  at  the  cathedral,  and,  the  service 
being  intoned,  the  echoes  made  confusion  worse  confounded. 
We  finally  saw  more  clearly  than  ever  before  the  force  of  the  re- 
mark of  one  of  old,  when  he  said  :  "  In  the  church  I  had  rather 
speak  five  words  with  my  understanding,  that  by  my  voice  I 
might  teach  others  also,  than  ten  thousand  words  in  an  un- 
known tongue."  We  have  thought,  while  enveloped  in  this 
confusion,  that  it  would  be  well  for  the  managers  of  cathedral 
services  everywhere,  to  be  thoughtful  as  St.  Paul  was,  and  say  : 
"  Whether  pipe  or  harp,  except  they  give  a  distinction  in  the 
sounds,  how  shall  it  be  known  what  is  piped  or  harped  ?  " 

There  is  one  especial  object  of  American  interest.  In  the 
chapter-house  there  hang  over  the  doors  two  flags  that  were  car- 
ried by  the  Cheshire  Regiment  —  the  2  2d  —  at  the  Battle  of 
Bunker  Hill  in  our  American  Revolution;  and  they  were  also 
carried  by  General  Wolfe  at  the  taking  of  Quebec  in  1 759,  six- 
teen years  before.  It  will  thus  be  seen  that  soldiers  from  this 
county  were  at  Charlestown,  June  17,  1775. 

There  are  some  very  ancient  houses  of  particular  note.  They 
are  of  the  old  timbered  and  panel-plastered  fashion,  with  very 


84  ENGLAND. 

fine  specimens  of  profuse  and  sometimes  grotesque  carving. 
Among  them  is  God's  Providence  House.  Its  three  stories 
and  gable  project  over  each  other  as  before  described.  The 
historical  fact  is  that,  when  the  plague  prevailed,  there  were 
deaths  in  every  house  on  the  street  save  this  one,  and  after  all 
was  over,  the  owner  put  this  inscription  upon  it,  which  re- 
mains to  this  day  : 

God's  Providence  is  my  Salvation. 

Of  bold  and  high  decoration,  by  carving  of  the  wooden  parts, 
is  Stanley  House,  with  its  three  gables.  This  is  one  of  the 
best  specimens  of  ancient  timber  and  plaster-work  to  be  fofind 
in  England. 

On  Bridge  Street  there  is  an  ancient  Roman  bath  that  well 
repays  a  visit,  for  we  are  there  permitted  to  look  upon  work 
a  thousand  years  old.  Do  we  realize  or  comprehend  the 
fact?  No;  but  the  impression,  with  a  photographic  fidelity, 
has  been  made  on  the  mind,  and  will  never  be  effaced.  Let 
what  will  happen,  so  long  as  memory  acts  and  intelligence 
remains,  the  good  influence  of  these  impressions  will  endure. 
The  mind  is  truly,  as  the  poet  has  expressed  it,  — 

Like  the  vase  in  which  roses  have  once  been  distilled, 
You  may  break,  you  may  ruin  the  vase,  if  you  will, 
But  the  scent  of  the  roses  will  hang  round  it  still. 

In  closing  our  description  of  grand  old  Chester,  we  will 
name  the  fact  that  in  Trinity  Church  are  the  tombs  of  the  poet 
Thomas  Parnell,  who  was  born  at  Dublin,  1679,  and  died  at 
Chester  in  July,  171 7;  and  of  the  eminent  commentator, 
Matthew  Henry,  born  at  Broad  Oak,  Flintshire,  1662,  and 
died  at  Nantwich,  June  22,  17 14.  He  became  pastor  of  a 
church  in  Chester  —  perhaps  Trinity  —  in  1687,  and  remained 
till  1  702,  a  period  of  twenty-five  years.  The  Commentary  was 
the  result  of  his  lectures  in  exposition  of  the  Bible,  the  whole  of 
which  is  said  to  have  been  thus  passed  in  critical  review  during 
his  ministry  at  Chester.  He  continued  the  lectures  at  Hackney, 
to  which  place  he  removed  in  171 2.  The  first  collected  edition 
was  published  at  London,  in  five  volumes,  in  1710,  but  to 
Chester  really  belongs  the  honor  of  being  the  place  where  this 
work,  so  well  known  the  Protestant  world  over,  had  its  birth. 

It  would  be  pleasant  to  linger  in  this  venerable  place.  We 
had  enjoyed  so  much  antiquity  at  Chester  that  we  could  hardly 
endure  the  shock  of  being  suddenly  dropped  into  some  modern 


SHREWSBURY.  85 

spot ;  and  so  the  place  set  down  in  our  programme  as  next 
in  order  was  the  one,  of  all  others,  admirably  in  keeping  with  our 
purpose.     This  was  the  good  old  domestic  town  of 

SHREWSBURY, 

of  well-known  Cake  notoriety.  We  took  passage  at  5.10  p.m. 
this  same  Sunday  evening ;  and  while  the  sun  was  high 
above  the  horizon,  at  7  o'clock,  we  were  safely  landed  at  Sta- 
tion Hotel.  Soon  after  supper,  as  English  people  call  it,  we 
were  out  for  a  tramp.  There  's  always  an  indescribable  impa- 
tience in  the  tourist  to  see  the  place.  There'  s  a  great  deal  of 
the  can'  t-comfortably-wait  condition,  and  it  generally  has  soon 
to  be  gratified.  We  were  early  in  love  with  the  town.  How 
comfortably  we  had  been  let  down  from  Chester,  and  how  un- 
harmed we  felt !  The  quaintness  discovered  in  the  narrow 
streets  and  the  ancient  buildings  made  it  a  second  Chester ;  but 
we  thought  we  saw  in  the  mansions  more  of  stateliness,  costli- 
ness, and  evidences  of  a  substantial  English  aristocracy.  The 
better  class  of  houses  were  like  the  first-class  three-story  brick 
mansions  at  Salem  and  Newburyport,  making  one  feel  at  home. 
Here  and  there  were  newer  buildings  of  modern  style,  which 
made  a  worthy  connecting  link  between  the  old  dispensation 
and  the  new ;  for  there  were  buildings  as  modern  as  are  any- 
where built,  and  some  as  ancient  as  are  to  be  found  anywhere, 
almost  equalling  those  so  justly  adored  at  Chester.  Shrewsbury 
is  the  shire  town  of  Shropshire,  and  has  a  population  of  23,406. 
It  has  the  remains  of  an  ancient  castle,  and  some  of  the  old 
walls  of  the  city  are  yet  standing.  The  River  Severn,  a  sluggish 
and  muddy  stream,  some  three  hundred  feet  wide,  divides  the 
town.  The  older  portion  is  connected  by  two  bridges,  and  also 
by  a  cheap  rope-ferry,  with  the  other  side,  on  which  are  rural 
residences  and  public-entertainment  grounds. 

When  we  speak  of  the  River  Severn  our  interest  is  intensi- 
fied by  the  thought  of  a  great  historic  fact.  In  1428,  by 
order  of  Clement  VIII.,  the  body  of  Wycliffe,  which  since  1415 
had  been  buried  in  a  dunghill,  to  which  it  had  been  consigned 
by  order  of  the  Council  of  Constance,  was  exhumed  and 
burned  to  ashes,  and  these  were  thrown  into  the  little  River 
Swift,  a  tributary  of  the  Avon.  This  gave  birth  to  the  fine  old 
verse  :  — 

The  Avon  to  the  Severn  runs, 
The  Severn  to  the  si  1 ; 

And  Wycliffe's  dust  shall  spread  abroad 
Wide  as  the  waters  be. 


86  ENGLAND. 

The  river  curves,  and  partly  encircles  the  city ;  and  on  its 
banks  we  found  the  public  park,  and  near  it  St.  Chad's  circular 
stone  church,  with  its  large  square  tower  above  a  portico, 
crowned  with  a  belfry,  under  which  are  great  clock  dials.  The 
park  is  simply  an  ordinarily  well-kept  grass  ground,  of  perhaps 
one  third  the  size  of  Boston  Common.  It  has  three  or  four 
superb  avenues  of  old  lime-trees,  and  Quarry  Walk  is  one  of  the 
finest  in  Europe.  Tradition  has  it  that  all  of  these  linden-trees 
were  set  out  by  one  man,  more  than  a  century  and  a  half 
ago.  The  ruins  of  Battlefield  Church,  now  little  appreciated, 
roofless  and  dilapidated,  are  four  miles  away.  This  is  famous 
as  being  the  place  where  Sir  John  Falstaff  "  fought  an  hour 
by  Shrewsbury  Clock." 

The  town  was  an  important  one  as  early  as  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, and  prominent  at  times  as  being  the  place  of  royal  resi- 
dence. Parliaments  were  held  here  in  1283  and  in  1398.  In 
1403  —  ninety  years  before  the  discovery  of  America  by 
Columbus  —  the  famous  Battle  of  Hotspur  was  fought  near 
here,  in  which  that  distinguished  soldier  was  killed.  In  1277 
it  was  the  temporary  residence  of  Edward  I.,  and  to  this  place 
he  removed  the  King's  Bench  and  Court  of  Exchequer  during 
the  Wars  of  the  Roses.  The  inhabitants  took  part  with  the 
House  of  York,  and  it  was  the  asylum  of  the  queen  of  Edward 
IV.  after  having  given  birth  to  the  princes  Edward  and  Richard, 
the  two  children  who  are  supposed  to  have  been  murdered  in 
the  Tower  of  London  by  Richard  III.  As  will  be  seen,  the  place 
is  intimately  connected  with  historic  facts.  Remembrance  of 
this  contributes  a  charm  not  well  expressed  in  words.  As  we 
walked  over  these  streets,  through  which  distinguished  person- 
ages have  walked,  and  by  houses  which  intelligent  people  have 
occupied  for  a  thousand  years,  —  as  we  thought  of  many  gene- 
rations who  here  lived,  labored,  and  died,  their  dust  now  min- 
gling with  the  soil  of  its  ancient  burial-grounds,  or  resting  in  the 
tombs  of  its  venerable  churches,  within  sound  of  the  same  ves- 
per bells  to  which  we  were  listening  at  the  close  of  this  pleasant 
Sunday  evening, — as  these  reflections  took  possession  of  our 
minds,  the  quiet  sanctity  of  the  Puritan  New  England  Sunday 
was  about  us,  and  we  felt  that  we  were  in  a  befitting  place  to 
end  a  day  so  well  and  interestingly  begun  at  Chester. 

Sunday  night  is  passed,  and  Monday,  May  5,  is  at  hand.  As 
usual  we  are  impatient  for  more  experiences.  Our  thoughts  are 
mingled  with  regrets,  tinted  with  righteous  indignation,  that 
American  tourists  so  neglect  these  places,  and  hurry  to  others  of 


SHREWSBURY.  87 

more  metropolitan  renown,  but  of  less  real  interest  to  any  one 
who  would  see  England  in  her  best  estate.  Their  loss  —  a 
great  one  —  is  nobody's  gain.  A  fine  walk  this  of  to-day, 
through  street  after  street  of  good  business  activity. 

Now  was  the  time  to  attend  to  another  duty.  In  passing  a 
store  we  saw  a  notice,  high  up  on  a  building,  that  here  were  made 
the  original  Shrewsbury  cakes.  We  found  that  the  recipe  had 
been  in  use  for  over  one  hundred  years,  dating  from  1 760  ; 
that  for  as  long  a  time  the  cakes  had  been  there  manufactured, 
and  were  now  enjoying  an  enviable  reputation  the  world  over ; 
and  also  that  it  was  not  an  uncommon  occurrence  to  send  them 
by  express  to  the  United  States.  They  are  put  up  in  round, 
blue,  paper-covered,  pasteboard  boxes,  about  six  inches  in  diam- 
eter and  four  inches  deep,  the  cakes  being  of  a  nature  that  will 
bear  transportation.  We  are  soon  in  possession  of  them,  but 
examination  does  not  make  us  over-enthusiastic.  If  at  home 
we  should  be  even  less  so.  They  are  thin  cakes,  say  less  than 
a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick,  and  five  inches  in  diameter, —  appar- 
ently made  without  spice,  but  very  sweet,  fat,  and  crisp.  As 
nearly  as  we  could  judge  they  are  composed  simply  of  flour, 
sugar,  eggs,  and  butter,  the  latter  in  generous  proportions. 
There  's  a  deal  in  a  name,  and  in  the  reputation  gained  through 
the  sluggish  lapse  of  a  century's  advertising  and  vigilant  atten- 
tion to  business.  Our  young  saleswoman  is  quite  pert  in  her 
independence,  and  scorns  the  idea  of  selling  or  even  hinting  at 
a  recipe  for  their  manufacture  ;  and  we  go  away  consoling  our- 
selves with  the  idea  that  we  have  many  times  eaten  similar 
things  at  home,  and  shall  again,  and  animated  by  the  conviction 
that, 

"  A  rose  by  any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet." 

It  may  be  our  judgment  is  at  fault,  and  that  they  are  in  posses- 
sion of  a  precious  as  well  as  a  remunerative  secret. 

Continuing  our  walk,  we  met  with  St.  Mary's  Church,  which 
has  every  requirement  of  a  cathedral  except  a  bishop.  Had  we 
not  seen  churches  of  the  kind  before,  we  should  have  gone 
deeply  into  enthusiasm  now ;  for  here  was  a  grand  structure, 
thoroughly  antique,  with  nave,  choir,  transepts,  chapels,  ancient 
monuments,  and  fine  windows,  —  one  very  large,  as  good  as 
any  in  all  England,  and  six  hundred  years  old.  It  is  an  inclina- 
tion of  the  tourist  to  ejaculate  at  every  new  place,  "  This  is  the 
most  interesting  we  have  seen."  We  are  at  a  loss  to  know  why 
St.  Mary's  is  riot  oftener  spoken  of  as  among  the  favored  few, 
for  it  is  all  of  that. 


88  ENGLAND. 

Shrewsbury,  grand  old  town,  full  of  interest,  and  antiquities 
we  have  not  time  to  name,  is  itself  a  museum  of  antiquity.  We 
know  much  more  than  we  did  when  we  first  surveyed  it,  but 
travel  and  observation  have  not  at  all  dimmed  our  admiration. 
At  n.io  a.  m.  we  move  on  to  our  next  place,  which  was  the 
prototype  of,  and  gave  its  name  to,  the  Heart  of  our  Massachu- 
setts Commonwealth, 

WORCESTER. 

We  arrived  at  2  p.  m.  in  a  mild  rain,  the  first  we  had  been 
compelled  to  walk  out  in  since  our  journey  began.  Valises  de- 
posited at  a  hotel,  we  were,  as  usual,  soon  out  to  survey  the 
place.  Like  Shrewsbury,  it  is  situated  on  the  River  Severn, 
which  runs  along  the  rear  part  of  the  place.  It  contains  33,2  21 
inhabitants,  was  once  a  walled  city,  and  vestiges  of  the  walls 
remain.  The  Danes  destroyed  it  and  rebuilt  it  about  894,  and 
it  was  burned  by  Hardicanute,  the  last  of  the  Danish  royal 
dynasty  in  England,  in  1041.  It  suffered  from  frequent  incursions 
of  the  Welsh,  and  was  one  of  the  principal  cities  of  the  ancient 
Britons.  In  the  early  period  of  the  Saxon  dynasty  it  became 
the  second  bishopric  of  Mercia.  Having  espoused  the  cause 
of  Charles  I.  it  was  greatly  troubled  by  the  soldiers  of  Parlia- 
ment; but  on  Sept.  3,  165 1,  the  final  battle,  termed  by  Crom- 
well "a  crowning  mercy,"  was  here  fought  by  the  Royalists 
under  Charles  on  the  one  side,  and  Cromwell  on  the  other, 
which  resulted  in  routing  the  former,  and  ended  in  a  defeat 
from  which  he  never  recovered. 

Samuel  Butler  the  poet,  of  "  Hudibras  "  celebrity,  received 
the  rudimentary  elements  of  his  education  in  the  schools  here  ; 
and  the  celebrated  Lord  John  Somers  was  born  here  in  1651. 

The  city  is  built  mostly  of  brick,  and,  from  the  number  of 
gardens  and  shade-trees,  has  a  rural  appearance.  The  river  is 
crossed  by  an  old  stone  bridge  of  several  arches,  and  along 
the  bank  next  the  city  proper,  and  below  the  land  elevation,  is 
a  promenade,  a  mile  or  more  long,  following  the  curve  of 
the  river.  In  portions  of  the  place  an  active  business  is  done, 
and  enterprise  is  everywhere  manifest.  Except  that  the  build- 
ings are  of  brick  or  stone,  it  well  reminds  one  of  our  Massa- 
chusetts Worcester.  A  few  of  the  houses  are  two  or  three 
centuries  old. 

It  is  a  marked  place  for  antiquities,  and  foremost  among 
them  is  the  cathedral,  which  is  built  of  light-drab  sandstone, 
in  the  form  of  a  double  cross,  having  four  transepts.      It  is 


WORCESTER.  89 

426  feet  long;  the  western  transepts  are  180  feet  through,  and 
the  eastern,  128  feet.  The  tower  is  at  the  centre,  or  at  the 
junction  of  the  nave,  choir,  and  east  transepts,  and  is  193 
feet  high.  It  is  very  elaborately  decorated,  ending  with  a  rich 
battlement  and  lofty  turrets.  It  was  founded  in  680,  but  the 
present  edifice  dates  from  the  fourteenth  century.  It  has  sur- 
rounding grounds,  and  is  in  most  perfect  repair,  both  the  exter- 
ior and  interior  having  been  lately  restored. 

A  few  words  once  for  all  are  needed  in  relation  to  this  word 
restored.  As  will  readily  be  conceived,  buildings  erected  of  a 
somewhat  perishable  material  are  more  or  less  in  constant 
decay.  The  degree  depends  on  the  nature  of  the  stone,  its 
exposure,  and  the  extent  of  its  elaboration  ;  but  all  stone  is 
subject  to  disintegration,  and  the  buildings  were  so  long  in 
process  of  erection,  that  the  older  portions  were  in  need  of 
repair  before  the  newer  were  finished.  In  these  latter  days, 
being  more  neglected,  much  dilapidation  existed,  and  im- 
portant parts  of  the  edifices  were  threatened  with  entire  de- 
struction. A  new  spirit  of  enterprise  has  been  infused  into 
the  people,  and  repairs  have  been  vigorously  prosecuted.  In 
some  instances,  large  portions  have  been  refaced  on  the 
outside. 

In  the  instance  of  Worcester  Cathedral,  the  great  tower  was 
nearly  rebuilt  ten  years  ago.  More  particularly  has  there 
been  an  interest  in  the  work  of  redecorating  the  interiors. 
This  has  consisted,  first  of  all,  in  the  removal  of  whitewash, 
which  had  been  put  on.  A  time  has  been  when  the  common 
judgment  of  all  bishops  approved  its  use.  It  gave  a  clean 
look,  but  injured  the  general  effect.  Cathedrals  are  generally 
finished  over  head  with  stone  arches  and  ribs ;  and  the 
wooden  roof  is  slated,  tiled,  or  covered  with  metal.  Some- 
times the  stone-work  of  the  ceilings  was  plastered  and  blocked 
off  in  imitation  of  stone.  The  present  taste  —  without  doubt 
largely  induced  by  the  late  Sir  Gilbert  Scott  —  is  to  clean 
off  this  wash  and  leave  the  stone  as  nearly  as  possible  in  its 
natural  condition.  It  was  a  common  practice  in  olden  times 
to  color  and  ornament  stone-work,  and  as  the  wash  has  been 
removed,  paintings,  often  grotesque,  are  found,  and  always  left 
as  a  memento  of  the  past.  Eventually,  all  cathedrals  will  prob- 
ably be  decorated  in  high  colors  and  fancy  designs.  Some  such 
paintings  are  already  begun  in  unimportant  parts  by  way  of 
experiment.  As  the  walls  now  look  somewhat  bare,  and  as 
a    love   for    display  in   service   is    on   the    increase,  there  is  a 


90  ENGLAND. 

strong  desire  for  new  glass  of  the  very  highest  colors.  It  is  to 
be  expected  that  the  same  spirit  will  not  rest  till  the  decoration 
is  also  in  gorgeous  hues.  In  a  few  cases  the  stone  is  so 
well  put  together,  and  of  such  a  tint,  as  to  make  it  sacrilege  to 
interfere  with  it ;  but  in  a  majority  of  churches  such  decorating 
would  harmonize  well  with  the  gay  windows  and  rich  interior 
stone   finish,  and   really  be   an  improvement. 

Another  change  is  the  removal  of  the  organs  from  the  choir- 
screens,  originally  located  at  the  line  of  choir  and  transepts. 
They  have  been  removed  in  a  majority  of  cases  to  the  side  of 
the  choir,  and  much  to  the  improvement  of  the  edifice.  All 
cathedrals  that  we  visited  have  been  restored  more  or  less  as 
described,  and  a  majority  of  them  are  finished.  When  a  resto- 
ration of  stone-work  has  been  made  of  any  especial  part,  as  new 
door-work  or  a  window,  the  work  has  been  done  in  the  style  of 
the  period.  Of  course  all  changes  since  the  last  period  of  Gothic 
architecture  —  the  perpendicular  —  have  been  made  in  that  style  ; 
so  that  at  times  we  find  in  one  structure  all  the  styles,  from  the 
Norman  down  through  the  whole  four.  This  method  of  opera- 
tion must  receive  general,  if  not  universal  sanction,  since  we  find 
it  invariably  pursued. 

On  cathedrals  generally  are  chimes  of  bells,  on  which  the 
quarter  and  half  hours  are  struck  by  a  few  notes  ;  and  in  Worces- 
ter Cathedral  is,  also,  a  large  barrel,  of  music-box  construction, 
by  which  at  especial  times  in  the  day,  as  at  9  A.  m.,  i  2  M.,  3  and  6 
p.  m.,  an  entire  tune  is  played  on  the  bells.  For  every  day  of  the 
month  there  is  a  new  tune,  a  list  of  the  music  being  at  the 
door.  On  the  day  of  our  visit  was  played  "  The  Harp  that 
once  through  Tara's  Halls." 

It  would  be  an  impossibility  to  describe  in  detail  these  great 
works  of  art,  the  cathedrals  of  England.  Little  more  can  be 
done  than  name  things  of  especial  interest.  So  far  as  the  in- 
terior of  Worcester  Cathedral  is  concerned,  it  is  very  in- 
viting, and  has  interesting  monuments.  The  impression  is 
not  quite  what  one  would  imagine  as  he  thinks  of  an  edifice 
over  four  hundred  feet  long,  for  sight  never  conveys  an  idea  of 
its  actual  length  ;  but  the  impression  is  that  you  are  looking  at 
a  colossal  church  —  one  larger  than  you  have  ever  before  seen. 
You  admire  the  lofty  tower,  think  it  of  elegant  design,  propor- 
tions, and  finish,  that  it  looks  new,  —  as  it  really  is,  —  but  get 
no  impressions  of  the  great  age  of  the  building. 

From  the  bridge,  looking  back  to  the  left,  you  see  an  elegant 
picture  —  the  river  low  down,  a  terraced  walk  at  its  side,  the 


WORCESTER.  91 

land  surface  some  ten  or  fifteen  feet  above.  An  eighth  of  a 
mile  or  so  distant,  half  embowered  in  fine  trees,  is  the  cathe- 
dral. -The  upper  parts  loom  high  above  the  branches,  and  the 
tower  rises  still  higher.  The  rear  end  of  the  cathedral  choir, 
with  its  great  east  window,  projects  beyond  the  grove,  and  is 
in  full  view  from  our  point  of  observation.  From  this  place  the 
city  has  a  rural  rather  than  a  commercial  or  manufacturing  ap- 
pearance. Let  one  stand  on  the  bridge  and  view  this  scene, 
and  listen  to  the  sweet  notes  of  the  bells.  The  mellow  and 
refined  sound  —  we  had  almost  said  the  intellectual  demonstra- 
tion —  of  the  cathedral  bells,  as  by  an  intuition  of  its  own,  insti- 
tutes a  comparison  between  this  day  of  civilization  and  that  of 
the  rude  savage,  and  then  if  ever,  one  sees  and  knows  that  the 
world  moves. 

In  the  cathedral  are  monuments  of  marked  and  distinguished 
men.  Here  reposes  the  dust  of  King  John ;  and  bedimmed 
with  dust,  in  sombre  repose  and  ancient  glory,  is  an  effigy  to  his 
memory.  He  died  in  1 216,  or  more  than  667  years  ago.  Here 
lies  the  body  of  Bishop  Stillingfleet,  who  was  made  Bishop  of 
Worcester  in  1689,  and  died  ten  years  later. 

Adjoining  the  cathedral  are  fine  cloisters,  or  covered  and 
partly  enclosed  corridors,  for  walking  and  meditation.  These  on 
the  open  side  are  built  with  piers  and  arches,  filled  with  stone 
tracery.  They  open  into  the  quadrangle,  which  is  grassed  over, 
but  roofless,  of  which  the  cloisters  form  the  sides.  On  the 
grounds,  and  in  those  adjoining,  are  the  residences  of  the  bishop 
and  other  dignitaries  of  the  cathedral ;  also,  the  Cathedral,  or 
King's  School.  One  can  hardly  imagine  the  beauty  of  these 
great  cathedral  grounds,  —  the  grouping  of  its  buildings ;  the 
finely  kept  lawns  ;  the  shady  walks  ;  the  atmosphere  of  repose, 
broken  only  by  the  sound  of  the  rooks,  that  are  in  the  ancient 
tree-tops,  or  by  the  quarter-hour  bells  so  sweetly  disturbing  it, 
and  solemnly  proclaiming  that  a  new  division  of  time  has  been 
joined  to  those  before  the  flood.  How  admonitory  the  sounds 
are  !  Not  to  all  listeners  are  they  thought-hardening,  but  the 
reverse.  Now  and  then,  by  night  and  by  day,  all  do  think,  and 
so  the  inanimate  bells  preach  effectually,  and  as  the  living 
preacher  cannot  always  do. 

Among  the  many  interesting  churches  here  is  St.  Andrew's, 
with  its  fine  old  tower  and  spire,  245  feet  high,  —  a  Bunker  Hill 
monument  in  height,  with  25  feet  added. 

The  pottery  manufactories  must  be  named,  for  their  produc- 
tions are  among  the  finest  of  our  times,  competing  even  with 


92  ENGLAND. 

those  of  Sevres.  The  management  of  these  establishments 
kindly  opens  them  to  the  public,  and  all  parts  of  the  work  may 
be  inspected.  Their  warerooms  present  a  display  that  is  inter- 
esting in  the  extreme.  The  results  of  many  years  of  experiment 
are  here  on  exhibition,  and  they  are  remarkable  triumphs  of 
mind  over  matter.  The  fine  blending  of  tints,  the  high  degree 
of  finish  attained  in  representing  fruits,  landscapes,  and  flowers, 
are  truly  wonderful.  We  were  informed  that  our  own  Boston 
has  its  constant  share  of  these  products. 

Remaining  over  night,  in  the  evening  we  are  entertained  by  a 
thunder-shower,  the  first  we  have  experienced  for  the  season. 
Heavy  thunder  and  vivid  lightning,  accompanied  by  warm  and 
refreshing  rain,  remind  us  of  home. 

We  should  have  before  stated  that  in  this,  as  in  all  the  Eng- 
lish cathedral  towns,  service  is  held  in  the  cathedral  at  1 1  a.  m. 
and  3  i>.  M.  daily.  There  is  no  sermon,  but  the  regular  morning 
and  evening  prayers  of  the  Church.  We  were  present  and 
enjoyed  the  grand  organ  music  and  singing ;  but  the  intoned 
services  and  its  accompaniment  of  echoes,  confused  and  neu- 
tralized the  spirit  of  worship.  A  few  persons,  perhaps  twenty 
in  all,  were  present,  aside  from  the  clergy  and  choir.  Most  of 
them  were  strangers,  as  we  were,  drawn  thither  by  curiosity,  but 
treated  in  the  kindest  manner,  and  every  facility  given  for  enjoy- 
ment. We  were  even  invited  into  the  stalls,  which  are  the  chief 
seats  in  the  synagogue.  We  occupied  them  readily  ;  at  the 
expense  of  being  accused  of  Phariseeism  we  may  say,  in  a  whis- 
per, that  we  desired  them.  We  went  to  the  top  of  the  tower 
and  were  delighted  by  the  view  of  highland,  vale,  river,  grove, 
and  the  city  itself.  Here,  as  in  all  cathedrals,  men  are  in  waiting 
to  show  persons  over  the  edifice,  and  call  their  attention  to 
things  of  especial  interest.  They  are  dressed  in  black,  with 
white  cravats  and  flowing  black  robes,  which  add  much  dignity 
to  their  appearance.  At  ioa.m.,  Tuesday,  we  left  Worcester 
for  another  cathedral  town, 

HEREFORD. 

At  n.30  we  have  just  arrived,  and  find  our  pronunciation  at 
fault.  77*r/--e-ford,  say  the  people,  not  JJcre-ford,  as  we  had 
spoken  it.  Well,  thus  corrected,  we  speak  it  as  well  as  they  to 
the  manner  born.  Our  ride  here,  and  in  fact  all  the  way  from 
Liverpool,  has  been  through  no  very  striking  scenery.  The 
land  is  well  kept,  and  about  one  quarter  of  it  is  under  cultiva- 


HEREFORD.  93 

tion.  We  notice  the  absence  of  land  divisions.  As  few  as 
possible  are  used,  and  those  are  hedges. 

Here  we  call  the  reader's  attention  to  the  plan  of  travel  we 
are  pursuing.  We  decided  not  to  hurry  to  London,  as  most 
Americans  do,  —  stopping  only  at  Chester,  Stratford-on-Avon, 
and  Oxford  ;  we  would  see  Ireland  and  Scotland  well,  and  Eng- 
land thoroughly.  We  therefore,  on  leaving  Ireland,  went  directly 
to  Liverpool,  which  is  on  the  extreme  western  side  of  England, 
and  about  two  thirds  of  the  way  north  from  its  lower  coast. 
Thence  we  went  southerly  to  Chester,  then  to  Worcester,  and 
now  we  are  at  Hereford.  It  is  our  intention  to  work  down  to 
Salisbury  and  Winchester,  stopping  at  other  cathedral  towns  on 
the  way,  and  thence  to  take  a  northerly  route  to  London.  This 
line  of  travel  carries  us  over  the  entire  western  part  of  the  island. 

Hereford  is  a  substantial  English  town.  It  has  many  antique 
buildings,  of  the  jutting-story  construction,  —  good  examples  of 
the  timber-and-plaster  pattern,  —  and  wide  streets.  There  is  a 
thrifty  look  about  the  inhabitants,  and  their  number  is  18,335, 
—  or  was  in  1 8  7 1 ,  for  that  ;s  the  year  from  which  date  the 
statistics. 

We  could  but  think  of  some  of  the  celebrated  men  who  had 
looked  upon  these  identical  scenes.  We  thought  of  the  Kem- 
bles,  who  here  managed  the  theatre.  They  are  of  world-wide 
celebrity,  beginning  with  old  Roger,  born  in  this  town  in  1721, 
and  dying  in  1802,  —  the  father  of  twelve  children,  among  whom 
are  Sarah  (Mrs.  Siddons),  and  John  Philip,  the  eldest  son,  and 
Charles,  the  youngest,  born,  respectively  in  1757  and  1775,  an<^ 
dying  in  1823  and  1854.  We  thought  also  of  David  Garrick 
of  histrionic  renown,  born  here  in  1  716,  the  personal  friend  of 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  of  dictionary  notoriety. 

We  walk  to  the  River  Wye,  on  which  the  town  is  situated,  and 
which  is  crossed  by  an  ancient,  six-arched  bridge.  The  cathe- 
dral, as  at  Worcester,  is  to  the  left,  and  on  land  rather  elevated 
from  the  river.  Hereford  strongly  resembles  that  place,  though 
without  the  river  promenade,  and  with  less  refinement. 

The  cathedral,  of  course,  must  have  attention.  Founded  in 
1072,  it  was  building  during  the  next  two  hundred  years.  Mostly 
in  the  Norman  style,  it  is  325  feet  long,  no  feet  through  the 
transepts,  and  has  a  grand  old  central  tower,  160  feet  high, 
ending  with  a  battlement  and  comer  turrets.  The  color  of  its 
stone  is  light  drab,  much  resembling  that  at  Worcester.  Every 
part  is  in  good  repair,  and  the  interior  has  a  very  imposing  look. 
We  were  by  no  means  prepared   for  the  bold  finish  and  fine 


'.'4  ENGLAND. 

windows  for  the  chapels  and  cloisters,  and,  above  all,  for  the  well 
kept  lawn  and  trees  of  the  bishop's  Palace,  and  other  ecclesiasti- 
cal houses.  The  Lady  Chapel  is  one  of  the  finest  in  England,  and 
the  cathedral  library  has  very  valuable  manuscripts,  among  them 
one  of  Wycliffe's  Bibles,  very  rare.  The  monuments  date  back 
to  the  eleventh  century.  In  what  profusion  are  the  antique 
slabs,  with  their  great  brass  crosses.  How  the  very  atmosphere 
of  the  place  is  fragrant  with  the  memory  of  the  sainted  dead  ! 
In  \isiting  these  cathedrals,  in  looking  on  the  ruins  of  ancient 
abbey  or  monastery,  —  so  complete  in  themselves,  and  exhibit- 
ing such  evidence  of  former  grandeur,  —  one  is  inclined  to  feel 
that  each  is  the  cathedral  of  all  England,  —  the  Mecca  of 
all  the  Church;  for  what  is  lacking?  Not  capacity  or  costli- 
ness ;  not  lack  of  graves  of  kings,  earls,  barons,  or  lords,  for 
here  beneath  our  feet  repose  the  dust  of  enough  such  for  an 
entire  kingdom.  Webster  well  said  of  another  place  :  "  I  do  love 
these  ancient  ruins.  We  never  tread  upon  them  but  we  set  our 
foot  upon  some  revered  history." 

The  part  the  town  has  taken  in  the  wars  gives  her  renown. 
How  often  the  Welsh  came  here  and  made  fearful  devastation  ! 
Could  the  sleepers,  now  at  rest  forever,  speak  again,  they  would 
tell  of  the  invasions  of  the  Saxon  era,  and  the  strange  Baronial 
wars  ;  of  the  sanguinary  conflicts  of  the  Plantagenets,  and  of  the 
battles  of  the  seventeenth  century  ;  of  the  long  siege,  when  a 
brave  defence  of  the  place  was  made  by  the  people,  their  town 
being  one  of  the  very  last  to  submit  to  the  Parliament.  All  is 
peaceful  now,  and  we,  on  this  pleasant  day,  were  dreamily 
wandering  along  the  lines  dividing  a  great  past  from  a  greater 
present,  and  both  from  a  yet  more  remarkable  future.  Without 
ability  to  comprehend  all  this,  we  were  trying  to  get  a  little 
entertainment,  if  we  dared  not  hope  for  something  greater.  A 
wide  door  is  opened  when  one  in  meditative  mood  goes  into 
a  town  like  this,  knows  of  the  great  past,  sees  the  present,  and 
then,  in  spite  of  himself,  projects  his  thoughts  into  the  future,  — 
the  near  and  the  distant  blending  into  one. 

The  sweet  chimes  on  the  bells  proclaim  the  end  of  an  hour ; 
then  the  short  pause,  —  how  still  !  and  now  how  clearly  marked 
is  the  new  hour.  The  great  diapason  bell  of  the  tower  sol- 
emnly pronounces  its  four  strokes,  and  we  wend  our  way  to  the 
station  for  Gloucester. 


GLOUCESTER.  95 


CHAPTER  VI. 

GLOUCESTER BRISTOL  —  BATH  —  SALISBURY  —  SARUM  — 

AMESBURY  —  STONEHENGE  —  WILTON. 

AT  6  p.  m.,  after  a  scant  two  hours'  ride,  we  take  rooms 
at  the  Gloucester  House,  and  are  out  on  a  walk 
in  another  beautiful  town,  the  River  Severn  running 
through  it,  —  a  town  more  like  Worcester  than  like  Hereford, 
though  in  population  (18,330)  strikingly  like  the  latter.  The  city 
is  of  British  origin,  but  is  very  ancient.  It  was  once  a  Roman 
station  by  the  name  of  Colonia  Glevum,  and  under  the  Emperor 
Claudius  received  the  name  of  Claudia  Castra.  The  Saxons, 
after  they  had  taken  it,  gave  it  the  name  of  Glean-ceaster ; 
hence  our  modern  word  Gloucester.  It  had  its  part  in  battles, 
and  in  the  seventeenth  century  was  strongly  fortified  and  took 
part  with  the  Royalists.  The  place  was  of  so  much  importance 
that  Henry  VIII.  made  it  a  bishop's  seat,  and  so  its  great  abbey 
church  became  a  cathedral.  The  edifice  is  in  fine  repair,  and 
is  noted  for  its  elegant  cloisters,  —  the  finest  of  any  cathedral  in 
the  world.  They  are  of  very  liberal  dimensions,  and  adorned 
with  fanlike  tracery  of  extraordinary  finish  ;  and  the  openings 
into  the  great  courtyard  are  filled  with  glass.  The  cathedral 
itself  is  one  of  rare  beauty.  It  is  423  feet  long,  and  147  feet 
wide  at  the  transepts  ;  and  the  great  central  tower  is  1 76  feet  high 
to  the  base  of  the  corner  pinnacles,  which  tower  up  49  feet 
higher.  The  cloisters  are  148  feet  long  on  each  of  their  four 
sides.  We  shall  not  attempt  a  closer  description  of  this  than 
of  other  cathedrals,  though  every  part  is  a  study. 

It  has  but  a  small  number  of  noted  monuments,  but  among 
them  are  some  of  unusual  interest.  One,  always  attracting  at- 
tention, is  of  Robert,  Duke  of  Normandy.  It  is  a  recumbent 
effigy  of  bog-oak,  covered  with  wire  network.  Being  a  Crusa- 
der, the  legs  are  crossed,  as  is  the  customary  represention. 
Robert  was  imprisoned  by  his  brother  Henry,  his  eyes  were  put 
out,  and  for  twenty-eight  years  he  continued  in  this  miserable 
condition  till  death  came  to  his  relief.     Another  monument  is 


96  ENGLAND. 

to  the  memory  of  Edward  II.,  who  was  murdered  Sept.  21, 
1327.  Another  commemorates  Bishop  Warburton,  who  was 
made  bishop  of  the  diocese  in  1759,  and  died  here  in  1779. 
Near  the  entrance  is  a  monument  to  Dr.  Edward  Jenner, 
the  discoverer  of  vaccination,  or  inoculation,  as  a  preventive 
of  smallpox.  He  died  at  Berkley,  in  the  county  of  Gloucester- 
shire, and  was  buried  in  this  cathedral  in  1S23,  at  the  age  of 
seventy-five. 

In  this  city,  in  1735,  was  born  Robert  Raikes,  who  in  1781 
hired  rooms  for  Sunday-schools,  and  employed  women  at  a  shil- 
ling a  day  to  teach  poor  children,  whom  he  found  in  the  streets, 
the  rudiments  of  common  education.  The  school  was  held 
from  10  a.m.  to  12  M.  An  hour's  recess  was  followed  by  a 
lesson  in  reading,  and  then  they  went  to  church.  After  service 
the  catechism  was  repeated  till  5  p.  m.,  "  when  they  were  charged 
to  go  home  at  once,  and  quietly."  This  was  the  origin  of  our 
present  system  of  Sunday-schools,  that  of  Mr.  Raikes  being  the 
first  of  which  we  have  any  account.  Here  also,  on  the  16th  of 
December,  1714,  was  born  the  celebrated  preacher,  George 
Whitefield,  who  died  at  Newburyport,  Mass.,  Sept.  30,  1770, 
and  whose  remains  are  entombed  under  the  pulpit  of  the  Old 
South  (Presbyterian)  Church  of  that  place.  One  mural  tablet 
was  of  especial  interest  to  us,  —  a  white  marble  slab,  high  up  on 
one  of  the  transept  walls,  thought  to  be  in  memory  of  a  relative 
of  the  founder  of  the  chimes  on  Christ  Church  at  the  North  End 
of  Boston.     It  reads  as  follows  :  — 

Abraham  Rudhall  Bf.ll  founder 
Fam'd  for  his  great  Skill 
belov'd  and  esteem'd  for  his  signal 
good  nature  and  integrity 
Died  Jan'y  25TH  1785-6  aged  78. 

One  of  the  bells  at  our  Christ  Church  bears  this  inscription  : 
"Abel  Rudhall  of  Gloucester  cast  us  all,  Anno.  1744."  As 
Abraham  would  have  been  about  forty-two  years  old  at  the  time, 
perhaps  he  was  the  son  of  this  Abel. 

The  organ  in  the  cathedral  is  one  of  great  power  and  bril- 
liancy of  tone-.  It  was  built  by  the  celebrated  Renatus  Harris 
of  London,  who  built  many  of  the  large  organs  of  England. 

Reluctantly  we  left  these  beautiful  grounds,  and  entertaining  a 
regret  unusually  deep.  The  walks  are  kept  scrupulously  clean, 
and  the  flowers  in  the  vicinity  of  the  student's  precincts  were 
charming.     As  we  sauntered  about  we  could  not  but  think  of 


BRISTOL.  97 

the  great  who  have  here  held  court.  Beneath  the  shadow  of 
these  very  walls  walked  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  many  a 
Norman  lord.  In  the  old  abbey  Henry  III.  was  crowned  three 
hundred  years  ago ;  and  who  can  walk  and  meditate  here  and 
not  think  of  Richard  III.,  Duke  of  Gloucester?  We  cannot 
refrain  from  quoting  the  quaint  description  given  of  him  by  Sir 
Thomas  More  :  — 

Richarde,  the  thirde  sonne  of  Richard,  Duke  of  Yorke,  was  in 
witte  and  corage  equal  with  his  two  brothers,  in  bodye  and  prow- 
esse  far  under  them  both,  little  of  stature,  ill  fetured  of  limmes, 
croke  backed,  his  left  shoulder  much  higher  than  his  right,  hard 
favored  of  visage,  and  such  as  in  stater  called  warlye,  in  other 
menne  otherwise,  he  was  malicious,  wrathful,  envious  and  from  his 
birth  ever  frowarde.  It  is  for  truth  reported  that  he  came  into  the 
world  with  the  feet  forwarde,  and  also  ontothed,  as  if  nature  changed 
her  course  in  hys  beginnynge,  which  in  the  course  of  his  lyfe  manny 
thinges  unnaturallye  committed. 

Just  outside  the  cathedral  grounds,  in  a  little  park,  stands  a 
monument  to  the  memory  of  John  Hooper,  who,  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Mary,  was  one  of  the  first  to  suffer  martyrdom,  and  was 
on  this  spot  burned  at  the  stake  Feb.  9,  1555.  Over  three  hun- 
dred years  are  gone  since  the  smoke  of  the  martyr  arose  from 
this  spot.  How-  changed  the  scene  !  Over  the  vast  domain,  none 
now  for  conscience  sake  have  power  to  destroy. 

As  reluctantly  as  can  be  imagined,  we  turned  away.  Very 
dear  to  us  already  had  become  old  Gloucester.  With  an  inde- 
scribable feeling  we  left  the  hallowed  spot,  and  at  n  a.  m.,  on 
Wednesday,  May  8,  took  cars  for  Bristol.  Our  people  do  not 
think  enough  of  the  Mother  Country.  They  hurry  breathlessly 
and  thoughtlessly,  with  but  confused  perceptions,  to  yet  more 
foreign  lands  ;  they  do  not  rest  by  the  way  in  these  fine  old 
towns,  drink  in  the  inspiration  which  pervades  their  very  atmo- 
sphere, and  so  make  themselves  ever  after  able  better  to  interpret 
history.  Another  has  well  expressed  it :  "  To  him  who  is  of  a 
mind  rightly  framed,  the  world  is  a  thousand  times  more  popu- 
lous than  to  the  men  to  whom  everything  that  is  not  flesh  and 
blood  is  nothing." 

BRISTOL. 

Arrived  at  2  o'clock  p.  M.,  after  a  ride  of  three  hours  from 
Gloucester.  First  impressions  of  the  place  were  much  like 
those  one  experiences  at  our  American  Pittsburg,  for  smoke 
prevailed,  and  the  dingy  appearance  of  the  buildings  confirmed 

7 


98  ENGLAND. 

the  belief,  that  this  condition  of  the  atmosphere  was  not  excep- 
tional. The  city  is  a  seaport,  situated  on  both  sides  of  the 
rivers  Avon  and  Frone,  at  their  confluence,  and  eight  miles 
from  their  entrance  into  the  Severn,  which  is  the  head  of 
Bristol  Channel.  The  population  is  182,524,  and  the  city  pre- 
sents a  bustling,  hurried  appearance.  It  is  provided  with  docks 
built  in  the  time  of  George  III.,  at  a  cost  of  $30,000,000,  and 
in  commercial  influence  was  long  the  second  city  in  the  king- 
dom. There  are  five  substantial  bridges  connecting  the  several 
portions  of  the  city.  Tides  rise  very  high,  —  those  denominated 
spring  tides  forty-eight  feet,  and  the  neap  ones  twenty-three  feet, 
compelling  the  use  of  a  floating  landing. 

Our  luggage  left  at  the  station,  in  anticipation  of  but  a  short 
stay,  we  walked  out  in  quest  of  the  cathedral,  and  soon,  as  we 
fancied,  saw  it  in  the  distance.  We  entered,  admiring  much 
about  it,  yet  disappointed  in  its  general  appearance,  for  it 
looked  old  but  not  cathedralish.  It  did  n't  seem  to  have  the 
genuine  antique  atmosphere.  There  were  old  monuments,  but 
not  old  enough.  The  color  was  dark-reddish  brown,  very 
sombre,  and  in  places  the  building  was  decayed. 

At  the  risk  of  showing  our  ignorance  we  asked  the  female 
verger  —  for  it  was  a  woman  this  time  —  if  this  was  the  cathe- 
dral. Lo,  our  good  judgment  had  prevailed,  and  we  were 
informed  that  it  was  St.  Mary  Radcliff  Church.  We  were 
glad  of  the  mistake,  for  here  the  celebrated  Joseph  Butler  — 
author  of  the  renowned  "  Analogy,"  who  was  made  Bishop  of 
Bristol  in  1738,  and  died  at  Bath,  June  16,  1752  —  was  buried. 
Before  us  was  a  monument  to  his  memory,  the  inscription 
written  by  the  poet  Southey.  There  were  other  monuments  of 
considerable  antiquity,  which  in  number  and  interest  greatly 
excelled  those  of  the  real  cathedral.  Of  most  interest  to  the 
visitor  is  the  fact  that  in  one  part  of  this  structure  the  wonderful 
young  Thomas  Chatterton  —  who  died  in  this  city  August  24, 
1770,  at  the  age  of  eighteen  —  wrote  his  astonishing  literary 
forgeries. 

We  were  ushered  up  a  flight  of  narrow  stone  stairs,  from  one 
of  the  transepts,  into  a  room  where  yet  remains  a  dusty  chest, 
formerly  belonging  to  a  wealthy  merchant  in  the  reign  of 
Kdward  IV.  It  was  in  this  that  Chatterton  said  he  found  his 
manuscripts,  —  declaring  that,  after  being  sealed  up  for  centuries, 
these  documents,  among  others,  were  there  in  1727  when  the 
chest  was  opened.  It  was  in  this  room,  with  its  unglazed 
openings,  with  the  rooks  as  his  companions,  his  only  light  that  of 


BRISTOL.  99 

the  moon,  —  for  he  claimed  that  by  her  illumination  he  could 
write  best,  —  were  penned  these  remarkable  impositions.  His- 
tory says  that  during  the  entire  Sundays  he  would  wander  in  the 
fields  of  Bristol,  and  lay  for  hours  on  the  grass,  gazing,  rapt  in 
meditation,  on  the  tower  of  this  old  church. 

We  can  hardly  forbear  stating  briefly  the  nature  of  his  re- 
markable deception.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  Chatterton 
died  at  the  age  of  eighteen.  His  father,  who  was  one  of  the 
schoolmasters  of  Bristol,  died  three  months  before  his  birth. 
At  the  age  of  five  he  was  sent  to  school ;  so  obtuse  was  his 
intellect,  that  in  a  year  and  a  half  "he  was  dismissed  as  an 
incorrigible  dunce."  His  mother  finally  taught  him  to  read, 
and  to  the  astonishment  of  all  he  became  at  once  an  intellect- 
ual prodigy.  At  the  age  of  eight  he  was  again  sent  to  school, 
and  remained  till  his  fifteenth  year.  He  took  little  interest  in 
his  associates,  but  gave  his  attention  to  miscellaneous  read- 
ing. In  1767,  the  year  he  left  school,  he  was  apprenticed  to  a 
Bristol  attorney.  Very  studious,  but  remarkably  eccentric,  he 
kept  his  own  counsel,  employing  his  leisure  time  in  the  study  of 
theology,  history,  and  especially  the  phraseology  of  Old  Eng- 
lish. The  next  season,  when  in  his  seventeenth  year,  he  per- 
formed the  work  which  immortalizes  his  name.  The  old  chest 
was  opened  by  the  proper  authorities  a  half-century  before. 
The  parchments  were  of  no  especial  value,  and  they  remained 
undisturbed,  till  Chatterton's  father  used  some  of  them  as 
covers  for  schoolbooks.  Some  of  them  his  son  obtained  ; 
their  curious  chirography  and  phraseology  excited  his  attention, 
and  he  conceived  the  idea  of  writing  something  of  the  kind 
himself.  He  asserted  that  some  were  written  by  Canynge,  the 
original  owner  of  the  cofre,  or  trunk,  and  others  by  Thomas 
Rowley,  the  ecclesiastic  and  poet.  He  carefully  copied  the 
style  of  writing,  followed  the  phraseology,  and,  by  a  process 
known  only  to  himself,  succeeded  in  giving  a  stained  and  time- 
worn  look  to  his  parchments,  deceptive  to  all  who  examined 
them. 

To  Burgam,  the  celebrated  pewterer,  ambitious  of  obtaining 
the  heraldic  honors  of  his  family,  he  gave  a  full  pedigree,  tracing 
his  descent  directly  from  the  noble  family  of  De  Bergham. 
The  historian  of  Bristol  was  aided  in  his  ecclesiastical  researches, 
and  put  in  possession  of  a  full  account  of  the  churches  as  they 
were  three  hundred  years  before,  according  to  Thomas  Rowley. 
A  theological  student  was  presented  with  part  of  a  sermon  by 
Rowley.     One  of  the  wealthy  citizens  of  Bristol  received  from 


100  ENGLAND. 

him  a  poem,  entitled  "  Romaunt  of  the  Cnyghte,"  said  to  have 
been  written  by  the  recipient's  ancestor  four  hundred  years 
before.  To  the  Town  and  Country  Magazine  he  made  contri- 
butions, and  Horace  Walpole  gratefully  received  anecdotes  of 
eminent  travellers  and  painters.  So  he  continued  cultivating, 
in  the  singular  atmosphere  of  his  temperament,  this  strange  en- 
thusiasm for  the  antique,  and  felt  most  comfortable  while  deceiv- 
ing the  public  ;  but  at  length  more  critical  eyes  were  turned 
toward  him.  Walpole,  entertaining  suspicions,  submitted  the 
parchments  to  Gray,  who  unhesitatingly  pronounced  them 
forgeries.  They  were  returned  to  young  Chatterton,  who, 
indignant,  avenged  himself  by  a  bitter  attack  on  his  antago- 
nist. He  led  next  a  singular  life  of  semi-seclusion  and  misery, 
writing  articles  for  the  reviews,  sermons  for  clergymen,  and 
songs  for  beer-gardens  ;  all  the  time  maintaining  a  gay  exterior, 
though  very  poor,  for  he  had  an  unconquerable  vanity.  Con- 
fiding in  no  one,  he  declined  a  dinner  offered  him  by  his  land- 
lady, even  when  he  had  been  three  days  without  food.  Finally 
he  expended  his  last  pennies  for  arsenic,  and  was  found  dead  in 
his  room,  August,  1770.  He  was  buried  in  the  pauper  burial- 
ground  in  Shoe  Lane,  Bristol,  and  afterwards  some  of  the  citi- 
zens erected  a  monument  to  his  memory. 

Here,  in  1495,  and  probably  for  some  years  before,  lived 
John  Cabot,  the  discoverer  of  the  North  American  Continent, 
and  while  living  here,  March  5,  1496,  he  and  his  three  sons 
•obtained  a  patent  from  Henry  VII.,  authorizing  them,  and  their 
heirs  and  assigns,  to  go  on  voyages  of  discovery ;  and  so  we 
have  it  that  a  Bristol  ship  early  touched  our  shores.  Newfound- 
land was  colonized  by  people  from  this  place  in  16 10,  under 
the  supervision  of  a  merchant  by  the  name  of  Guy,  whose 
colonists  —  while  not  successful  in  making  a  permanent  settle- 
ment of  the  island,  being  superseded  in  162 1  or  1623  by 
others  —  were  the  first  among  foreigners  to  make  this  place 
their  fixed  residence. 

Bristol  was  one  of  the  first  places  in  Great  Britian,  whence 
regular  steam  communication  was  established  with  the  United 
States.  April  4,  1838,  the  steamship  Sirius,  of  700  tons  bur- 
then, and  with  engines  of  250  horse-power,  sailed  from  Cork 
for  New  York.  Four  days  later,  April  8,  the  Great  Western,  of 
1,340  tons,  having  engines  of  450  horse-power,  sailed  from  Bris- 
tol. Both  arrived  in  New  York  on  the  23d,  the  former  making 
the  passage  in  eighteen,  and  the  latter,  in  fourteen  days,  arriving 
respectively  on  the  morning  and  noon  of  the  day  named. 


BRISTOL.  101 

This  city  is  the  seat  of  manufacture  of  the  well-known  Bristol 
Brick,  so  long  used  for  domestic  purposes  throughout  America. 
An  operative  in  one  of  the  works  visited  the  United  States  in 
1820,  and  discovered  similar  sand  in  South  Hampton,  N.  H., 
since  which  period  a  brick  of  equal  value  has  been  made  in  our 
own  country. 

The  cathedral  itself  was  next  visited.  It  is  on  the  other  side 
of  the  River  Avon,  and  is  not  a  large  structure,  but  is  in  good 
repair  within  and  without.  It  is  built  of  red  sandstone,  and 
has  no  grounds  about  it,  but  is  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  popu- 
lous neighborhood.  It  was  founded  in  the  time  .of  King 
Stephen,  who  was  born  a.  d.  iioo,  and  died  in  n  54.  It  is 
175  feet  long,  128  feet  wide,  and  has  a  large,  solid,  clumsy 
tower,  140  feet  high.  Here,  as  usual,  we  were  entertained 
by  the  three-o'clock  service.  As  an  inducement  to  stay,  we 
were  informed  by  the  verger  that  a  new  anthem  was  to  be 
performed.  We  remained  in  chairs  near  the  door,  and  were 
soon  greeted  with  the  usual  imposing  procession,  —  the  verger 
with  his  elevated  mace,  followed  by  the  robed  choir  of  twelve 
men  and  boys,  the  two  canons,  and  the  bishop.  With  much 
order  and  becoming  dignity  they  took  their  places  before  an 
audience  of  twelve  persons.  The  service  was  intoned,  making 
an  unintelligent  jumble  of  echoes  and  indistinct  sounds,  to 
us  annoying  in  the  extreme.  We  venture  to  say  :  "  We  think 
it  don't  pay."  At  the  risk  of  being  dealt  with  as  were  some 
of  old  for  making  a  similar  remark,  we  are  inclined  to  ask, 
"  Why  was  this  waste  of  ointment  made?"  There  are  some 
monuments  of  interest  in  the  cathedral,  but  none  of  great 
renown. 

As  we  walked  through  the  long  and  many  streets,  we  were 
impressed  with  the  city's  extent.  The  land  rises  abruptly  from 
the  rivers,  making  many  of  the  streets  quite  hard  to  climb. 
Very  observable  was  the  great  number  of  houses  in  which  the 
first  stories  were  occupied  as  shops,  the  families  of  their  keepers 
residing  in  the  rooms  above.  A  good  idea,  and  one  not  prac- 
tised enough.  There  were  several  Tremont  and  Park  streets. 
Some  of  the  buildings  are  modern  in  style,  though  for  the  most 
part  they  have  an  old  and  substantial  appearance.  Many  of 
the  oldest  were  originally  so  well  built  as  to  need  no  change, 
save  for  trading  purposes. 

The  immediate  suburbs  are  elevated.  There  are  hills,  amphi- 
theatre like,  on  all  sides  ;  and  on  those  adjoining  the  city  proper 
are  the  fine  grounds  and  mansions  of  the  merchants  and  wealth- 


L02  ENGLAND. 

ier  families.  It  is  a  place  of  manufactures  and  much  commerce, 
and  the  central  part,  about  the  rivers,  has  the  appearance  of  an 
American  city. 

There  are  many  old  institutions,  and  they  have  venerable 
buildings.  We  can  only  name  a  few.  One  of  these  is  St. 
Stephen's  Church,  built  in  1470,  twenty  years  before  the  dis- 
covery of  America.  Others  are  the  Old  Guild  Hall,  built  in 
the  time  of  Richard  II.,  who  died  a.  d.  1400 ;  the  Corn  Ex- 
change, of  modern  Corinthian  architecture,  costing  $250,000; 
the  Royal  Infirmary,  which  annually  treats  seven  thousand  five 
hundred  patients.  The  city  supports  six  hundred  schools, 
educating  twenty-five  thousand  pupils.  Almshouses  and  hospi- 
tals, charity  institutions  and  infirmaries,  abound.  After  a  some- 
what hurried  examination  of  the  place,  we  took  train  at  5.30 
p.  m.  for 

BATH, 

where,  after  an  hour's  ride,  we  arrived  at  6.30  p.  m.  This  is 
situated  on  the  River  Avon,  and  has  a  population  of  52,542.  It 
is  one  of  the  most  ancient  cities  of  Great  Britain,  was  founded 
before  the  Roman  invasion,  and  was  an  important  station  on 
the  Roman  road,  leading  from  London  to  Wales.  The  remains 
of  a  Corinthian  temple  have  been  found ;  also  many  ancient 
Roman  coins,  vases,  and  altars.  The  city  it  chiefly  built  on 
level  ground,  or  on  a  gentle  slope  ;  but  it  has  along  its  rear  side 
very  elevated  land,  arranged  in  terraces  and  lawns,  presenting, 
with  its  costly  residences,  an  imposing  background,  giving  to 
the  place  an  air  of  consequence  and  picturesqueness.  The  city 
is  principally  built  of  brown  stone,  not  at  all  dingy  or  sombre  in 
appearance.  A  short  ramble  satisfied  us  that  this  was  one  of 
the  aristocratic  places  of  England.  Substantial  and  clean  was 
everything  we  beheld.  Nothing  anywhere  was  new ;  but  the 
old  was  of  the  very  best. 

It  is  a  fashionable  place  of  resort  for  invalids,  and  we  saw 
in  the  great  thoroughfares  carriages  drawn  by  men  and  occupied 
by  invalids  of  all  ages.  We  said  then  and  say  now  :  "Let  all 
who  go  to  London  go  also  to  Bath."  It  is  England's  Queen 
City,  and  one  of  which  she  may  well  feel  proud. 

The  cathedral  is  a  perpendicular  Gothic  structure,  very  old, 
but  in  most  perfect  repair.  It  is  210  feet  long,  and  has  a  tower 
1 70  feet  high,  and  is  made  of  the  reddish-drab  sandstone  of 
which  the  city  is  principally  built.  The  stone  ceiling  of  the 
church  is  of  open  fan-work,  the  finest  of  the  kind  in  England. 


BATH.  103 

The  whiteness  of  the  whole  interior  is  very  striking,  and  accords 
with  the  neat  exterior.  There  are  no  grounds  about  it,  or  even 
a  fence  ;  the  streets  are  paved  with  large  flagstones,  reaching 
close  to  the  building  itself.  The  church  and  the  world  are  in 
intimate  proximity. 

Here  again  the  cathedral  chimes  saluted  us  every  fifteen  min- 
utes, all  day  and  all  night.  To  the  thoughtful  their  few  notes 
speak  with  living  lips.  Sometimes  they  have  two  notes,  and  it 
requires  but  slight  imagination  to  interpret  them  as  saying 
"  Quarter  hour  ;  "  or  three  notes,  and  then  they  say  "  Quarter 
hour  gone  ;  "  or  four,  and  then  we  have  it  "  Quarter  hour  more 
gone."  The  intervals  are  but  short  when  the  knell  of  departing 
time  is  not  thus  sounded.     The  poet  Young  says,  — 

We  take  no  note  of  time, 
But  from  its  loss.     To  give  it  then  a  tongue 
Is  wise  in  man. 

The  advice  is  good,  and  we  gave  it  a  tongue ;  but  it 
makes  a  deal  of  difference  what  the  tongue  says.  If  it  waken 
regrets  at  the  loss  of  time,  when  an  eternity  remains,  then  it 
had  better  have  no  tongue.  These  divisions  of  time  are  made 
by  men,  and  are  but  incidentally  a  part  of  the  Creator's  plan. 
These  sweet  sounds  are  fresh  music-flowers,  strewn  over  the 
graves  wherein  are  buried  the  new  minutes  of  the  quarter-hour 
just  departed. 

The  city  takes  its  name  from  its  famous  hot  baths,  and 
was  frequented  by  the  Romans  for  the  purpose  of  using  its 
waters,  known  to  them  by  the  name  Aqua  So/is,  (sun-water) . 
Baths  were  erected  here  in  the  time  of  Claudius,  who  died  a.  d. 
54.  These  waters  are  saline  and  chalybeate,  but  they  also  con- 
tain sulphur  and  iron.  The  principal  ones  are  called  King's, 
Queen's,  and  the  Cross  baths,  and  the  waters  are  constantly 
boiling  at  a  temperature  of  from  109  to  117  degrees  Fahrenheit. 
There  are  two  others  though  of  less  note,  called  the  Abbey  and 
the  Hot  baths.  Rooms  for  drinking  the  water  and  for  bathing 
are  constantly  patronized,  and  at  times  the  population  of  the 
city  includes  14,000  visitors.  King's  Bath  is  the  most  popular. 
It  is  a  fine  old  classic  structure,  fronting  on  one  of  the  principal 
streets,  in  which  is  what  is  called  the  Pump  Room,  a  saloon  85 
feet  long,  48  feet  wide,  and  34  feet  high,  elegantly  finished  and 
well  furnished,  where  every  convenience  is  provided  the  invalid 
i  r  rest  and  refreshment,  and  for  drinking  the  water  from  a  con- 
stantly flowing  fountain.     These  rooms  are  attended  by  matrons 


104  ENGLAND. 

who  for  the  small  fee  of  a  penny,  furnish  all  the  water  desired. 
It  is  not  unpleasant  to  the  taste,  though  unmistakably  impregna- 
ted with  the  materials  named.  It  steams  up  well  from  the  gob- 
let, and  is  so  warm  that  one  must  drink  it  in  separate  swallows. 
The  old  room  was  erected  in  1760,  and  has  been  used  by  mil- 
lions of  people. 

The  baths  connected  with  this  building  were  the  only 
ones  we  visited,  and  are  a  sample  of  the  others.  The  visitor 
pays  his  shilling  (24  cents),  and  receives  a  ticket  which  admits 
him  to  another  part  of  the  edifice,  where  he  finds  dressing- 
rooms  and  toilet  conveniences.  He  presently  passes  out  into 
a  small  room,  about  four  feet  wide  by  eight  feet  long,  closed  on 
three  sides ;  the  fourth  partly  open,  but  protected  by  a  screen 
reaching  two  thirds  up  to  the  top  of  the  opening.  The  floor  is 
covered  with  hot  water,  four  feet  deep,  and  stone  steps  lead  into 
it.  The  bather  can  remain  inside,  or  he  may  enter  the  great 
swimming-bath,  filled  with  the  same  water.  That  is  precisely 
what  we  did.  Opening  the  screen,  we  found  the  great  reservoir 
to  be  perhaps  seventy-five  feet  square.  Three  sides  were  en- 
closed by  rooms,  similar  to  ours ;  the  fourth  side  was  a  very 
ancient  wall  of  stone,  reaching  ten  feet  or  more  above  the  water, 
in  which  were  antique  tablets  telling  of  the  foundation  of  the 
baths.  The  space  was  open  to  the  sky.  The  water  was  so 
warm  as  at  first  to  disincline  one  to  enter  it,  but  by  degrees  the 
sensation  became  far  from  unpleasant.  Steam  was  constantly 
arising.  The  water  was  not  clear,  though  clean,  but  had  a  dull 
clay-water,  yellowish  look,  and  was  quiet,  except  in  a  space  of 
ten  feet  square  at  the  centre,  where  it  constantly  boiled  up,  at 
times  with  a  rushing  noise.  We  remained  there  nearly  an  hour, 
admiring  and  wondering. 

In  the  great  pump-room  is  a  statue  of  the  celebrated  Richard 
Nash,  familiarly  known  as  Beau  Nash,  who  died  at  Bath  in 
1 761.  He  was  at  one  time  the  leader  of  fashion.  At  the  en- 
tertainment given  by  members  of  the  Middle  Temple  to  William 
III.  he  was  employed  to  conduct  the  festivities.  So  marked  was 
his  success  that  the  king  offered  to  knight  him,  but  conscious 
of  his  lack  of  means  to  support  the  honor,  he  declined  it.  More 
than  any  other  person  he  aided  in  making  Bath  a  place  of  fash- 
ionable resort.  By  his  labors,  propriety  in  dress  and  civility  of 
manners  were  enforced  in  public  resorts,  till  at  length  he  was 
styled  the  King  of  Bath.  He  was  an  eccentric,  and  obtained 
his  living  at  the  gaming-table.  He  lived  in  great  style,  travelled 
in  a  coach  with  six  outriders,  and  dispensed  charity  in  a  prodi- 


BATH.  105 

gal  and  reckless  manner.  Near  the  close  of  his  life  an  act  of 
Parliament  was  passed  prohibiting  gambling.  Having  depended 
entirely  upon  that,  he  afterwards  lived  in  comparative  indigence, 
and  died  in  poverty,  Feb.  3,  1761.  Strange  to  say,  he  was  un- 
gainly in  person,  having  coarse  and  even  ugly  features,  and 
dressed  in  a  tawdry  style.  It  is  remarkable  that  such  a  person 
could  induce  a  system  of  public  refinement,  and  be  honored  by 
this  statue.  Goldsmith  was  so  interested  in  his  strange  career, 
that  he  anonymously  published  a  biography  of  him  in  1762,  the 
year  after  his  decease. 

We  can  readily  imagine  what  the  place  was  prior  to  the  time 
of  Nash.  Macaulay,  quoting  from  Wood's  "  History  of  Bath," 
written  in  1747,  says  :  — 

A  writer  who  published  an  account  of  that  city  sixty  years  after 
the  Revolution,  has  accurately  described  the  changes  which  had 
taken  place  within  his  own  recollections.  He  assures  us  that,  in 
his  younger  days,  the  gentlemen  who  visited  the  springs  slept  in 
rooms  hardly  as  good  as  the  garrets  which  he  lived  to  see  occupied 
by  footmen.  The  floors  of  the  dining-rooms  were  uncarpeted,  and 
were  colored  brown  with  a  wash  made  of  soot  and  small  beer,  in 
order  to  hide  the  dirt.  Not  a  wainscot  was  painted.  Not  a  hearth 
or  chimney-piece  was  of  marble.  A  slab  of  common  freestone,  and 
fire-irons  which  had  cost  from  three  to  four  shillings,  were  suffi- 
cient for  any  fireplace.  The  best  apartments  were  hung  with 
coarse  woollen  stuff,  and  were  furnished  with  rush-bottomed  chairs. 

Samuel  Pepys  in  his  remarkably  interesting  diary,  under  date 
June  13,  1668,  gives  an  account  of  his  visit  to  the  baths,  and 
in  his  own  quaint  way  tells  the  story  as  follows  :  — 

Up  at  four  o'clock,  being  by  appointment  called  up  to  the  Cross 
Bath,  where  we  were  carried  one  after  another,  myself  and  wife, 
and  Betty  Turner,  Willett  and  W.  Hewer,  and  by-and-by,  though 
we  designed  to  have  done  before  company  came,  much  company 
came  ;  very  fine  ladies  ;  and  the  manner  pretty  enough,  only  me- 
thinks  it  cannot  be  clean  to  go,  so  many  bodies  together  in  the 
same  water.  Good  conversation  among  them  that  are  acquainted 
here  and  stay  together.  Strange  to  see  how  hot  the  water  is ;  and 
in  some  places,  though  this  is  the  most  temperate  bath,  the  springs 
are  so  hot  as  the  feet  are  not  able  to  endure.  But  strange  to  see 
when  women  and  men,  here,  that  live  all  the  seasons  in  these 
waters  cannot  but  be  parboiled,  and  look  like  the  creatures  of  the 
bath  !  Carried  away,  wrapped  in  a  sheet,  and  in  a  chair  home  ;  and 
there  one  after  another  thus  carried,  (I  staving  about  two  hours  in 
the  w  iter)  home  to  bed,  sweating  for  an  hour,  and  by-and-by  comes 
music  to  play  to  me,  extraordinary  good  as  ever  I  heard  in  London 


106  ENGLAND. 

almost,  or  anywhere.  .  .  .  Sunday,  June  14:  Up  and  walked  up 
and  down  the  town,  and  saw  a  pretty  good  market-place  and  many 
good  streets,  and  fair  storehouses,  and  so  to  the  great  church,  and 
there  saw  Bishop  Montague's  tomb  ;  and,  when  placed,  did  there 
see  many  brave  people  come,  and  among  others,  two  men  brought 
in,  in  litters,  and  set  down  in  the  chancel  to  hear  ;  but  I  did  not 
know  one  face.  Here  a  good  organ ;  but  a  vain  pragmatical 
fellow  preached  a  ridiculous,  affected  sermon,  and  made  me 
angry,  and  some  gentlemen  that  sat  next  me  did  sing  well.  15th, 
Monthly.  Looked  into  the  baths,  and  find  the  King  and  Queen's 
full  of  a  mixed  sort,  of  good  and  bad,  and  the  Cross  only  almost 
for  the  gentry. 

In  1 768,  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  the  dramatist,  removed 
here,  where  his  father's  family  had  previously  settled.  At  the 
age  of  nineteen,  in  conjunction  with  his  friend  Hathead,  he 
began  his  literary  career.  In  1772,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one, 
he  fell  in  love  with  Miss  Linley,  the  popular  singer  of  Bath.  To 
save  her  from  the  persecutions  of  the  libertine  Matthews,  he  fled 
with  her  to  France,  and  they  were  secretly  married  at  Calais. 

Delighted  inexpressibly  with  this  Queen  City  of  the  South  of 
England,  the  antipodes  of  everything  in  the  South  of  Ireland, 
we  left  it  at  2.30  p.m.  for 

SALISBURY, 

where,  after  a  ride  of  four  hours,  we  arrived  at  6.30  p.  M. 
We  found  this  city  possessing  something  of  the  look  of  old 
Chester,  with  narrow  streets,  projecting  stories,  queer  oriel  win- 
dows, and  having  12,903  inhabitants.  The  clean  streets  are 
drained  by  small  brooks  running  through  them.  The  city  was 
founded  at  Old  Sarum,  two  miles  north  of  its  present  location, 
and  removed  to  this  spot  in  1 2 1 7.  It  stands  on  a  level  and  fertile 
plain,  and  is  partially  enclosed  with  the  remains  of  the  old  walls. 
Little  manufacturing  is  done,  nor  is  trade  followed  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, the  community  being  more  inclined  to  agricultural  pursuits. 
Of  course  the  cathedral  is  the  great  object  of  attraction,  for 
it  is  very  large  and  imposing,  and  has  the  highest  spire  in  the 
kingdom,  404  feet  in  height.  Spires  are  the  exceptions  on 
cathedrals,  for  of  all  the  twenty-nine,  only  six  have  spires 
above  their  towers,  —  Salisbury,  Litchfield,  Norwich,  Chi- 
chester, Oxford,  and  low  ones  on  the  front  of  that  at  Peter- 
boro.  The  others  have  towers  without  the  spire,  but  from 
association  they  are  looked  upon  as  finished,  as  in  the  case  of 
King's  Chapel  and  the  old  Brattle  Square  Church  in  Boston.    At 


SALISBURY.  107 

Salisbury  we  have  the  perfection  of  a  central  tower,  and  a  spire, 
of  charming  outlines  and  graceful  proportions.  The  cathedral 
was  erected  between  the  years  1220  and  1260,  and  is  the  only 
one  in  Great  Britain  where  a  single  style  of  architecture  was 
employed,  and  the  pure  Early  English  prevailed  throughout.  It 
was  completely  restored  on  the  exterior  in  1868,  and  the  interior 
was  in  process  of  restoration  at  the  time  of  our  visit.  In  plan 
it  is  a  double  cross,  its  extreme  length  being  442  feet.  The 
stone  is  of  a  dark  soapstone  color,  and,  being  partially  covered 
with  very  thin  lichens,  it  has  a  dingy  look  ;  but  the  clean-cut 
outlines  and  smooth  surface  of  the  stone,  the  unusual  height  of 
the  building,  standing  at  the  centre  of  a  large  close,  furnishes 
such  a  good  opportunity  for  viewing  it  that  it  presents  an 
imposing  appearance.  It  has  many  ancient  monuments,  and  a 
beautiful  altar-piece  of  the  Resurrection.  The  grounds  are 
walled  in,  and  a  half  square-mile  is  within  the  enclosure.  The 
English  oaks  are  very  large,  the  pathways  clean  and  hard,  and 
the  lawn  elegant.  Rooks  were  to  be  seen  in  large  numbers. 
Their  circling  flight  as  they  wheeled  from  tree  to  tree  ;  the  still- 
ness, unbroken  save  by  their  incessant  cries ;  the  prevailing  air 
of  repose  ;  the  aristocratic  aspect  of  the  Bishop's  residence,  and 
those  of  the  other  functionaries  ;  the  memories  that  have  clustered 
around  the  spot,  during  the  six  hundred  and  sixty  years  since 
Bishop  Poore  founded  the  cathedral,  —  all  conspired  to  invest 
the  place  with  sanctity.  Here  again  came  the  thought,  "  This  is 
the  cathedral,"  —  as  though  all  England  were  but  the  diocese, 
and  this  the  seat  of  the  entire  Church. 

The  great  bourdon  bell  in  the  tower  solemnly  proclaims  the 
hour  of  8  p.  m.,  and  we  wend  our  way  over  the  dike,  skirting  the 
narrow  river,  to  get  a  moonlight  view  of  the  cathedral.  How 
often  we  turn  to  look  anew  on  that  symmetrical  tower  and  lofty 
spire,  and  how  satisfying  the  gaze.  We  turn  back  again  and 
admire  the  fields  spread  around  us  ;  we  are  delighted  with  the 
hills,  and  with  the  winding  river,  narrow  and  clear,  whose  banks 
we  are  treading.  The  little  mill-village  ahead  lures  us  on ; 
but  the  cathedral  is  more  potent.  We  turn  again  and  gaze, 
walk  backwards  and  admire,  till  the  little  hamlet  a  half-mile 
away  is  reached.  We  walk  over  the  trembling  footbridge  and 
along  the  rude  milldam,  and  try  to  be  entertained  ;  but  no,  we 
must  turn  our  footsteps,  for  in  full  view  is  the  "all  in  all."  So 
we  w.i Ik  back,  and  think  and  admire  anew,  till  night  comes  over 
us,  and  we  and  the  cathedral  are  draped  with  a  common  pall. 
Through  the  night,  as  the  chimes  broke  the  stillness,  and  the 


108  ENGLAND. 

great  bell  set  its  heavy  notes  as  milestones  of  time,  we  felt  the 
greatness  of  our  surroundings. 

OLD    SARUM. 

On  Friday  a.  m.,  at  nine  o'clock,  we  took  team  at  Salis- 
bury for  this  place.  Few  spots  in  history  are  of  more  interest 
than  this  and  its  neighbor,  Stonehenge,  —  the  former  two, 
and  the  latter  a  little  less  than  nine  miles  from  Salisbury. 
Sarum  was  an  important  settlement  made  by  the  early  Britons, 
which  afterwards  became  a  Roman  station,  and  the  residence  of 
the  West  Saxon  kings.  King  Alfred  fortified  it,  and  in  the 
eleventh  century  it  was  made  a  bishop's  see.  In  12 17,  how- 
ever, Bishop  Poore  removed  two  miles  away,  and  there  estab- 
lished what  is  now  Salisbury  Cathedral,  and  so  the  city  itself. 
As  a  matter  of  course,  Sarum  declined.  The  people  followed 
the  bishop,  and  what  was  once  a  place  of  note  became  almost 
extinct.  Only  one  house  remains  on  the  grounds,  but  there  are 
yet  traces  of  the  walls,  cathedral,  and  castle.  A  more  complete 
ruin  is  not  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  Great  Britain,  and  a 
strange  enchantment  hovers  about  the  scene. 

The  ride  from  Salisbury  is  very  pleasant.  From  the  level 
land  on  which  the  new  city  (though  over  660  years  old)  stands 
we  pass  into  a  very  undulating  country,  a  quarter  of  which  is 
covered  with  groups  of  shrubbery  and  trees.  On  the  greenest 
of  green  grass,  thousands  of  sheep  and  many  cows  are  grazing, 
but  no  houses  are  in  sight.  A  rare  beauty  exists  everywhere, 
and  many  evidences  of  civilization.  Salisbury  is  in  our  rear. 
Above  all  we  see  the  cathedral  tower  and  spire,  distinct  in 
outline,  like  a  faithful  sentinel  standing  there  and  guarding  us. 

We  alight  from  our  team,  hitch  the  horse  by  the  roadside, 
and  turn  to  our  left  into  a  path  parallel  with  the  main  road, 
and  running  a  short  distance  across  the  field.  We  walk  on 
along  the  edge  of  a  grove,  and  come  upon  a  solitary  house, 
which  is  the  only  human  habitation  at  Old  Sarum.  It  is  a 
stone  house  of  moderate  size,  two  stories  high,  plastered 
and  whitewashed,  with  a  red  tiled  roof.  It  is  situated 
back  some  fifty  feet  from  our  path,  is  well  fenced,  and 
surrounded  by  shade-trees  and  shrubbery.  It  has  a  very 
English  appearance.  A  sign  over  the  gate  informs  the  travel- 
ler that  it  is  a  place  of  transient  entertainment.  It  fronts 
on  the  main  road,  and  we  are  now  at  the  rear  entrance. 
Salisbury   itself  —  or    Boston,   for   a    sixpence    or   a    dime  — 


OLD    SARUM.  109 

can  at  a  moment's  notice  furnish  better  entertainment  than 
can  be  provided  there.  Yonder  elevated  land,  in  this  same 
field,  is  our  better  restaurant.  We  walk  delightedly  over  the 
pathway  thither.  What  thoughts  take  possession  of  the  mind. 
Here  ancient  Britons,  conquering  Romans,  and  Saxon  kings  and 
queens  walked  a  thousand  years  ago.  The  same  sky  bent  over 
them ;  the  same  soil  was  beneath  their  feet.  Odors  from 
flowers  and  the  same  balmy  atmosphere  regaled  them.  The 
birds  sang  to  them  as  they  sing  to  us  now. 

We  approach  the  venerable  enclosure.  It  is  a  vast  circular 
enbankment  some  twenty  feet  high,  with  here  and  there  bushes 
and  small  trees.  The  general  symmetry  suggests  the  work  of 
human  hands,  but  the  abandoned  appearance  tells  of  antiquity. 
Our  road  leads  down  over  a  depression,  the  old  moat,  —  and 
then  up  again,  and  in  through  an  opening,  on  both  sides  of  which 
is  ragged  masonry  of  flint,  cobble-stones,  and  white  mortar.  We 
now  discover  that  the  huge  mound  is  a  mortar-wall,  overgrown 
with  grass  on  both  sides,  this  opening  having  been  rudely  broken 
through  it.  Walls,  a  thousand  and  more  years  old  !  What  deso- 
lation ;  what  strange  fascination  !  We  enter  and  go  up  to 
the  top  of  the  embankment.  What  tongue  or  pen  can  ade- 
quately describe  the  emotions  awakened?  The  views  in  all 
directions  are  charming.  No  mountains  are  visible  to  inspire 
awe  ;  no  great  metropolis  is  to  be  seen ;  but  "  sweet  fields  of 
living  green  "  hills  innumerable,  pleasant  groves,  feeding  sheep, 
tinkling  cow-bells,  and  air  sweet  with  wild  flowers  and  modest 
daisies  (crushed  at  every  tread  beneath  the  feet)  are  about  us  ; 
but  we  leave  these,  to  study  the  grand  old  ruin.  At  the  centre 
is  a  hollowed,  though  comparatively  level  space,  of  five  hundred 
feet  in  diameter,  covered  with  grass,  bushes,  and  small  mounds. 
The  depression  is  not  far  from  twenty  feet  deep,  the  earth  and 
grass  sloping  up  to  the  walk,  about  ten  feet  wide,  which  encircles 
it.  The  outer  edge  is  irregularly  hemmed  in  by  bushes.  Out- 
side of  this  is  a  mote  fifty  feet  wide,  and  thirty  feet  deep.  En- 
circling all  is  a  plateau  two  hundred  feet  wide,  and  another  mote, 
thirty  feet  wide  and  twenty  feet  deep.  The  motes  were  once 
filled  with  water,  but  now  grass  has  superseded  it.  Instead  of  be- 
ing a  barrier  against  approaching  foes,  they  have  better  uses.  In 
the  language  of  Whittier,  applied  to  an  old  New  England  burial- 
ground  :  — 

There  sheep  that  graze  the  neighboring  plain 
Like  white  ghosts  come  and  go  ; 

The  farm  horse  drags  his  fetlock  chain, 
The  cow-bell  tinkles  slow. 


110  ENGLAND. 

With  variation  of  tense  another  verse  of  the  same  poem  ap- 
plies to  it  :  — 

It  knows  the  glow  of  eventide, 

The  sunrise  and  the  noon, 
And  sanctified  and  glorified 
It  sleeps  beneath  the  moon. 

The  time  has  come  to  leave,  and  we  return  to  our  team.  Old 
Sarum  has  been  seen,  and  is  never  to  be  forgotten.  Where  are 
they  who  here  thought  and  labored  a  thousand  years  ago? 
Gone,  without  a  solitary  exception,  gone  to  the  silent  mansions 
of  the  dead. 

AMESBURY. 

Three  miles  more  and  we  are  at  Amesbury,  the  town  for  which 
our  Massachusetts  Amesbury  was  named.  One  of  us  having 
been  born  within  five  miles  of  the  latter,  we  must  of  course  see 
its  prototype.  We  found  it  to  be  remarkably  neat  but  queer. 
The  streets  and  avenues  are  hard  and  smooth.  There  are  no 
modern  buildings.  It  is  substantial,  not  thickly  settled,  rural  to 
a  fault,  but  bears  marks  of  high  antiquity.  Here  are  the  remains 
of  a  celebrated  abbey,  now  used  as  the  parish  church.  The 
outline  is  varied  but  low.  A  mile  or  two  away  was  born,  at 
Milston  in  1672,  Joseph  Addison.  One  cannot  help  being 
reminded  that  this  was  a  fitting  place  for  the  beginning  of  such 
a  career.  In  all  our  wanderings  we  have  seen  no  town  re- 
sembling this,  —  odd  in  the  plan  of  the  roads,  peculiar  in  its 
fixed  appearance,  nothing  suggesting  change  or  repair.  Most 
of  the  buildings  are  brick,  two  stories  in  height,  and  a  market- 
place is  at  the  centre.  How  admirable  the  surroundings,  — 
Salisbury,  Sarum,  Stonehenge,  Wilton,  Bemerton. 

This  ride  was,  all  things  considered,  the  most  delightful  in 
our  journey  through  England.  The  scenery  was  nowhere 
wild  or  romantic,  but  the  reverse.  The  landscape  was  undula- 
ting, with  great  valleys  well  supplied  with  groves,  the  whole 
forming  a  panoramic  view  of  unsurpassed  elegance. 

STONEHENGE. 

A  ride  of  six  miles,  and  we  reach  Stonehenge,  on  the 
Salisbury  Plain.  The  plain  is  three  or  four  miles  in  extent, 
comparatively  level,  well  grassed,  and  surrounded  with  hills. 
No  house  could  be  seen,  nor  any  sign  of  civilization  save 
the   road   and   the   sheep    and   the  cattle  so   quietly  grazing. 


STONEHENGE.  Ill 

A  sign  at  the  left  of  the  roadside  directed  us  into  a  cart- 
path  over  the  field.  Our  driver,  an  old  visitor,  informed  us 
that  yonder,  a  distance  requiring  a  slow  five  minutes'  ride, 
were  the  famed  ruins,  in  the  midst  of  this  vast  field,  without  a 
tree  for  company.  Alighting  there  we  found  an  elderly  man  in 
attendance  to  describe  the  ruins,  and  see  that  tourists  did  no 
harm.  We  were  informed  that  the  present  owner  of  the  do- 
main, Lord  ,  was  pleased   to  have  visitors  come,  and 

that  all  were  welcome,  but  strictly  prohibited  from  removing 
fragments  or  defacing  the  stones.  Two  large  ovals  are  in- 
side of  two  circles.  On  these,  or  lying  about  them,  are 
large  rough-squared  oblong  stones,  many  of  them  four  feet 
wide,  two  feet  thick,  and  fifteen  feet  long.  While  keeping 
the  same  general  form,  the  others  vary  in  size  down  to 
half  these  dimensions.  All  have  a  blackened  grayish  appear- 
ance, with  spots  of  thin  moss  on  them.  Several  of  them  are 
set  like  posts  in  the  ground,  some  perpendicular,  others  aslant. 
Some  rest  on  the  top  of  these,  reaching  from  one  to  another. 
Some  stand  alone ;  others  have  fallen,  and  lie  flat.  Some  of 
them  are  broken  or  lean  against  others.  To  complete  the  scene 
is  a  flat  stone  called  the  altar,  inside  of  the  inner  oval.  This  is  a 
slab  about  fifteen  feet  long  and  four  feet  wide.  The  grass  grow- 
ing about  them  is  well  trodden  down  and  cropped  by  the  sheep. 
There  were  originally  one  hundred  and  forty  stones,  and  they 
varied  in  weight  from  six  to  seventy  tons.  They  are  much 
weather-worn,  though  many  of  them  retain  sharp  angles  ;  and  on 
the  top  of  the  pillars  are  small  rude  tenons,  with  correspond- 
ing mortices  in  those  that  once  rested  upon  them.  The  large 
ones  appear  to  be  about  twelve  feet  high,  and  they  stand  four  or 
five  feet  apart.  The  outer  circle  has  seventeen  stones  remain- 
ing out  of  the  original  thirty ;  the  inner  has  but  eight  whole 
stones,  and  fragments  of  twelve  others.  The  inner  oval  consisted 
of  twenty  smaller  stones,  of  which  eleven  are  yet  standing.  The 
other  oval  had  ten  stones,  of  which  eight  remain. 

Scattered  over  the  plain,  in  sight  of  these  ruins,  are  about 
three  hundred  mounds  or  tumuli,  varying  from  six  feet  to  forty 
in  diameter.  They  are  conical  in  form,  and  well  grassed  over. 
Some  of  these  have  been  opened,  and  they  prove  to  be  places 
of  sepulture  ;  for  in  them  were  charred  human  bones,  fragments 
of  pottery,  and  British  and  Roman  ornaments  and  weapons. 
On  making  excavations  at  the  altar,  remains  of  oxen,  deer,  and 
other  animals  were  found,  mingled  with  burnt  wood  and  pieces 
of  ancient  pottery. 


112  ENGLAND. 

Evidence  tends  to  show  that  this  was  a  Druidic  temple. 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  assumes  that  it  was  built  by  order  of 
Aurelianus  Ambrosius,  the  last  British  king,  in  honor  of  four 
hundred  and  sixty  Britons  slain  by  Hengist  the  Saxon.  Poly- 
dore  Vergil  declares  that  it  is  a  monument  to  Hengist,  who 
died  about  a.  D.  488.  The  temple  theory  has  more  evidence 
in  its  favor,  and  finds  the  largest  number  of  supporters. 

WILTON. 

After  a  stay  of  an  hour  we  ride  on,  not  over  the  road  we 
came  by,  but  first  by  a  cart-path  over  the  field  among  the 
mounds,  and  afterwards  for  a  half-mile  out  into  another  road. 
We  now  go  back  through  the  nice  little  town  of  Wilton, 
where  carpets  of  that  name  were  first  manufactured.  The 
excellent  roads  are  at  times  very  white,  because  of  the  chalk- 
stones  which  enter  into  this  construction.  Halfway  from  Stone- 
henge  lies  Wilton,  with  a  population  of  less  than  two  thou- 
sand. The  carpet  manufacture  has  declined  till  but  compara- 
tively few  are  now  made.  Most  of  the  houses  are  of  brick,  with 
tiled  roofs,  having  neat  flower-gardens  in  front,  and  grapevines 
on  the  walls.  It  was  once  a  seat  of  monastic  establishments, 
but  the  edifices  are  torn  down  with  a  single  exception,  —  the 
Hospital  of  St.  John.  One  place  of  antiquity  yet  remains, 
namely,  the  Wilton  House,  the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
which  contains  a  gallery  of  rare  paintings,  and  stands  on  the 
site  of  the  abbey  founded  by  a  sister  of  King  Egbert,  a.  d. 
800.  The  place  is  open  to  the  inspection  of  the  public  on 
certain  days,  —  uncertain  ones  to  us  or  our  driver,  —  but  we 
must  drive  around  it.  On  approaching  we  saw  an  old  but  rich 
Roman  gateway,  with  the  usual  porter's  lodge,  and  a  fine  avenue, 
short  but  well  shaded,  as  an  approach  to  the  square  in  front. 
Alighting,  we  were  informed  that  this  was  not  Admission  Day, 
and  the  Noble  Lord  not  being  at  home  could  not  be  appealed 
to ;  so  we  reluctantly  departed ;  but  before  going,  we  had 
through  the  gateway  a  good  view  of  the  grounds,  and  of  the 
mansion  itself,  bowered  in  trees.  Large,  of  Italian  architecture, 
built  of  a  light-drab  stone,  it  is  said  to  have  been  designed  by 
the  celebrated  architect,  Inigo  Jones  —  who  died  in  1652  — 
aided,  it  may  be,  by  Holbein.  As  we  turned  away  we  could  but 
think  of  a  similar  experience  which  took  place  just  two  hundred 
and  ten  years  before,  June  n,  1668.  The  eccentric  Pepys 
visited  the  ruins  at  Stonehenge,  Wilton,  and  this  very  spot,  and 


WILTON.  113 

with  an  experience  like  our  own.     The  record  in  his  Diary  is  as 
follows  :  — 

Went  to  the  inne  ;  and  there  not  being  able  to  hire  coach  horses, 
and  not  willing  to  use  our  own,  we  got  saddle-horses,  very  dear, 
give  the  boy  that  went  to  look  for  them  sixpence.  So  the  three 
women  behind,  W.  Hewer,  Murford,  and  our  guide,  and  I,  single 
to  Stonehenge,  over  the  plain,  and  some  great  hills,  even  to  fright 
us,  come  thither,  and  find  them  prodigeous  as  any  tales  I  ever 
heard  of  them,  and  worth  going  this  journey  to  see.  God  knows 
what  their  use  was  !  they  are  hard  to  tell,  but  yet  we  may  be  told. 
Gave  the  shepherd-woman,  for  leading  our  horses,  fourpence,  so 
back  by  Wilton,  my  Lord  Pembroke's  House,  which  we  could  not 
see,  he  being  just  coming  to  town  ;  but  the  situation  I  do  not  like, 
nor  the  house  at  present,  much,  it  being  in  a  low  rich  valley. 


11-1  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

BEMERTON  —  WINCHESTER READING  —  NEWBURY. 

IN  sight  of  Salisbury  Cathedral,  and  but  two  miles  away,  is 
Bemerton,  an  ideal  spot,  combining  those  qualities  that  go 
to  make  up  one  of  the  best  specimens  of  a  rural  hamlet  of 
Old  England,  —  clean  roads,  well  built  walls,  highly  cultivated 
land,  beautiful  trees,  grounds  with  no  evidences  of  poverty  or 
want.  A  spot  that  does  not  appear  to  have  been  at  all  inter- 
fered with  by  any  outside  trouble,  is  this  little  municipality; 
and  how  fit  a  place  for  "  Holy  George  Herbert "  to  live  and 
die  in.     Whoever  remembers  the  hymn  beginning, 

Sweet  day,  so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright, 
The  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky, 

will  wish  to  see  the  place  of  the  author's  labors  and  final  repose. 
He  died  here  in  1632.  Charles  I.  gave  him  the  living  ;  but  only 
for  the  two  years  before  his  death  was  he  rector  of  the  parish. 
We  rode  down  a  quiet  lane,  and  on  the  left  found  the  miniature 
church,  the  smallest  we  had  ever  seen.  We  did  n't  measure  it, 
but  thought  it  to  be  about  seventeen  feet  wide,  forty  feet  long, 
including  the  chancel,  and  not  more  than  ten  feet  high  to  the 
eaves.  It  is  built  of  stone,  with  a  moderately  high  roof,  cov- 
ered with  old  reddish  tiles.  Of  Gothic  architecture,  it  had  a 
modest  belfrey,  a  chancel  at  the  east  end,  with  a  colored-glass 
east  window,  and  all  the  altar  appliances  of  a  miniature  church. 
It  is  built  with  its  side  to  the  lane,  only  a  few  feet  back,  with  an 
entrance  through  a  porch.  There  are  two  windows  on  each 
side.  There  are  no  pews,  but  the  floor  is  partly  occupied  with 
high-backed,  flag-bottomed  chairs,  of  which  there  is  room  for 
but  three  on  each  side  of  the  aisle.  About  the  building  is  an 
old  burial-ground,  where  "  the  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet 
sleep." 

Here  the  sweet  spirit  of  Herbert  was  at  home  ;  here  from 
choice  he  did  his  work.  "  Having  served  his  generation,  by 
the  will  of  God  he  fell  on  sleep,"  and  beneath  the  altar  his  ashes 
repose.     To  this  spot  pilgrimages  were  made  by  distinguished 


BEMERTON.  115 

men  in  the  days  of  his  rectorship,  for  he  was  one  of  the  few  not 
without  honor  in  his  own  country.  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Lord 
Bacon,  Dr.  John  Donne,  —  the  poet  and  Dean  of  St.  Paul's 
at  London,  who  died  the  year  before  Herbert,  —  these  were 
among  the  companions  who  received  inspiration  from  the  hum- 
ble rector  of  this  little  church.  Honest  Isaac  Walton  could  not 
rest  till  he  had  written  a  biography  of  him,  though  it  was  not 
published  till  1670,  more  than  a  third  of  a  century  after  the 
good  rector's  decease. 

How  choice  a  place  is  the  Bemerton  parsonage.  If  holy 
ground  anywhere  exists,  this  spot  has  indisputable  claims  to 
the  title.  Across  the  road,  not  more  than  thirty  feet  away, 
is  the  house  in  which  Herbert  lived,  much  in  its  old  condi- 
tion, though  somewhat  enlarged.  Humble  and  unpretentious, 
it  is  still  the  Bemerton  parsonage,  and  occupied  by  Rev.  Mr. 
Piggot,  the  present  rector.  The  house  is  a  story  and  a  half 
high,  standing  sidewise  to  the  road,  and  parallel  to  the  church, 
which  might  be  its  twin.  Mr.  Piggot,  a  gentleman  of  means 
and  taste,  was  absent ;  but  with  extreme  courtesy  his  man-servant 
met  us  at  the  door,  and  cheerfully  showed  us  over  the  house, 
especially  into  the  study  which  makes  it  historic.  The  efforts  he 
made  for  our  pleasure,  the  permission  granted  us  to  walk  at  will 
over  the  old  garden,  indicated  the  present  incumbent  as  one 
who  would  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  the  sweet  singer  of  that 
Israel.  How  charming  that  Eden  !  Walks  and  lawns  are  as 
they  were  in  Herbert's  day.  There  is  the  medlar  tree  he  planted, 
now  more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  old,  —  decrepit, 
and  supported  by  props.  The  trunk,  six  or  eight  inches  in 
diameter,  is  protected  by  thin  metal  plates,  and  cared  for  like 
an  invalid  or  a  pet  child.  It  yet  bears  a  little  fruit,  and  is 
a  living  link  between  the  centuries,  bridging  over  the  long  chasm 
from  George  Herbert  to  ourselves.  The  little  River  Avon, 
at  the  rear  of  the  garden  and  washing  its  banks,  still  runs  as  it 
did  then,  and  every  foot  of  the  acre  is  sacred.  In  the  immedi- 
ate rear  of  the  old  house,  opposite  from  the  river,  perhaps  two 
hundred  feet  away,  is  a  beautiful  lawn.  Vines  climb  the  house- 
walls  and  flowering  shrubs  complete  the  picture.  Inside  the 
house,  works  of  vertu  and  evidences  of  scholarly  life  abound. 
All  is  befitting  to  the  dear  memory  of  Herbert.  Exquisite  is 
the  beauty  of  the  road,  and  perfect  the  shade  of  the  overhanging 
trees.     What  a  charm  seemed  to  permeate  everything  ! 

"  Take  it  for  all  in  all, 
We  shall  not  look  upon  its  like  again." 


116  ENGLAND. 

Carrying  with  us  better  influences  than  had  come  from  the 
hills  and  on  the  great  plain  of  Sarum  and  Stonehenge,  we  bade 
Bemerton  farewell.  Passing  through  Fisherton,  a  suburban 
village  of  Salisbury,  —  like  Bemerton,  watered  by  the  Avon, — 
we  reached  Salisbury  at  noon,  and  at  two  o'clock,  took  a  train 
for 

WINCHESTER, 

where  we  arrived  at  four.  This  is  historically  of  remarkable 
interest,  and  may  be  named  as  one  of  the  few  places  the  tourist 
cannot  afford  to  miss.  It  is  built  mostly  of  brick,  contains 
16,336  inhabitants,  and  is  pleasantly  situated  on  the  River 
Itchen,  which,  though  not  itself  navigable,  is  used  as  a  canal  to 
the  sea.  While  the  buildings  have  a  modern  look,  and  espe- 
cially the  shop  windows,  one  cannot  walk  far  before  he  feels 
that  he  is  in  one  of  the  old  places  of  England.  This  was  an 
important  place  in  the  days  of  the  Britons,  and  the  Romans  are 
supposed  to  have  built  its  walls.  In  the  year  519  Cerdic,  the 
Saxon  chief,  captured  and  made  it  the  seat  of  government. 
Under  the  Danes  it  became  the  capital  of  England,  and  so 
remained  till  after  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  who  died  in  11 89. 
It  was  at  the  height  of  its  glory  in  the  reign  of  Henry  I.,  who 
died  in  1135,  but  in  the  time  of  Henry  VI.  it  had  materially  de- 
clined. He  is  believed  to  have  been  killed  in  the  Tower  at  Lon- 
don, a.  d.  1471. 

Winchester  was  the  principal  residence  of  the  sovereigns  till 
the  accession  of  George  I.,  a.  d.  1714.  Henry  III.  was  born 
here  in  1207,  and  here  Henry  VIII.  sumptuously  entertained 
Charles  V.  In  this  place  also  Isaac  Walton  —  author  of  the 
Complete  Angler,  and  of  celebrated  biographies  —  was  born 
Dec.  15,  1683.  The  atmosphere  is  surcharged  with  great 
events.  Every  foot  of  ground  is  classic,  and  in  nearly  every 
street  may  be  found  mementoes  of  something  famous.  We 
Americans,  born  and  educated  under  new  conditions,  are 
poorly  calculated  to  measure  these  ancient  historic  remains  ;  yet 
by  kindred  and  historic  associations  we  are  the  very  people  to 
best  get  large  and  just  impressions  of  England's  worth. 

At  Worcester,  Gloucester,  Bath,  Salisbury,  we  were  richly  enter- 
tained. At  the  mention  of  either  place,  memory  is  immediately 
roused  to  incidents  crowding  into  reconsideration  !  Either 
of  these  places  might  take  its  position  as  chief !  So  now  of 
grand  old  Winchester.  How  hard  it  is  to  write  and  not 
be  intensely  eulogistic.     It   has   enough  antiquity  for  a  whole 


WINCHESTER.  117 

country.  On  one  street  is  a  monument  commemorative  of  the 
plague  of  1669.  In  the  distance,  a  mile  or  so  from  the  city,  may 
be  seen  the  hospital  of  St.  Cross,  founded  in  the  reign  of  St. 
Stephen,  who  was  crowned  in  1135,  and  died  1154,  nearly  eight 
centuries  ago.  We  come  to  the  venerable  St.  Lawrence,  the 
mother  church  of  all  in  the  city,  into  which  each  new  bishop 
has,  for  a  thousand  years,  made  solemn  entry  when  he  took 
charge  of  the  See. 

At  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  there  were  ninety  churches 
and  chapels,  besides  monasteries  where  thousands,  under  a  blind 
religious  policy,  were  being  supported  at  public  expense ;  but 
the  Reformation  drove  these  drones  from  their  seclusion,  re- 
duced the  churches  to  but  nine,  broke  up  abbeys,  and  true 
progress  began. 

The  city  was  formerly  walled  in,  and  had  four  gates,  but  all 
except  the  west  gate  have  been  removed  ;  and  that  now  stands 
sentinel-like  in  the  midst  of  a  commercial  population,  which  all 
day,  and  late  into  the  night,  hurries  through  the  old  arch.  Its 
durability,  has  apparently  demanded  few  repairs. 

For  centuries  upon  centuries  the  chamber  over  it  was  the 
deposit  for  the  national  standards  of  weights  and  measures,  as 
instituted  under  King  Edgar,  who  died  975.  Who  has  not  heard 
of  the  Winchester  Bushel?  Nine  hundred  years  old  is  the 
phrase,  yet  to-day  the  indentical  measures  are  in  existence. 
We  found  that  they  had  recently  been  removed  from  their  long 
resting-place,  to  the  museum  of  Guild  Hall,  a  place  of  great 
interest.  Our  first  request  was  to  be  shown  the  measures,  and 
there  before  us  was  the  famous  bushel,  resting  on  a  low  stand. 
It  is  of  brass,  or  some  similar  composition,  and  dark  bronze-like 
in  appearance.  We  guessed  it  to  be  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  inch 
thick,  and,  lifting  it,  found  it  to  be  quite  heavy,  weighing 
perhaps  thirty  pounds.  It  is  in  form  like  a  shallow  kettle,  some 
sixteen  inches  in  diameter,  and  eight  inches  deep,  with  straight 
sides,  well  rounded  lower  corners,  the  bottom  slightly  con- 
cave ;  it  rests  on  three  small  feet,  and  has  stiff  pitcher-like 
handles  on  each  side.  The  metallic  weights  are  round,  and 
deep  as  compared  to  their  diameters.  They  are  various  in  form 
and  decoration,  having  been  altered  under  different  administra- 
tions. The  measures  of  length  are  brass.  All  these  relics  are 
kept  in  glass  cases. 

In  this  museum  are  other  rare  antiques,  among  them  exhumed 
Roman  pottery,  ancient  proclamations,  and  rare  documents,  — 
among  which  was  one  relating  to  the  practice  of  touching  for 


118  ENGLAND. 

cure  of  King's  Evil,  or  scrofula.  After  reciting  cures  wrought, 
and  the  public  press  on  the  occasion,  it  makes  proclamation  of 
rules  governing  the  operation,  and  naming  certain  times  as  set 
apart  for  the  king's  visit  and  work. 

Next,  we  visit  the  banqueting-hall  of  the  ancient  castle,  in 
which  the  first  parliaments  of  England  were  held.  While  the 
building  has  been  remodelled  and  extended,  for  judicial  uses, 
this  hall  remains  unchanged.  It  is  elaborately  finished  in  oak, 
which  is  now  like  ebony  in  appearance.  The  room  is,  perhaps, 
one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long,  fifty  feet  wide,  and  forty  feet 
high. 

At  one  end,  lying  flat  against  the  wall,  some  twenty  feet  from 
the  floor,  is  the  Round  Table  of  King  Arthur,  who  must  have 
reigned  as  early  as  a.  d.  525.  Much  as  we  dislike  to  spoil 
good  stories,  we  ought  to  say  that  doubt  exists  whether  this 
personage  ever  lived,  for  the  balance  is  in  favor  of  the  the<  »ry 
that  the  entire  story  of  King  Arthur  and  his  knights  is  only  an 
English  legend ;  but  here  is  the  table,  and  the  only  one  that 
claims  to  be  genuine.  It  appears  like  a  dial,  —  a  round  wooden 
tablet,  three  inches  thick,  and  eighteen  feet  in  diameter.  At  the 
centre  is  a  circle,  some  two  feet  in  diameter,  in  which  is  painted 
a  flower.  From  this  lines  radiate  to  the  circumference,  making 
twenty-four  divisions.  In  one  of  them  is  a  portrait  of  King 
Arthur  ;  the  other  divisions  are  alternately  white  and  green. 

Not  far  from  this  hall  was  the  palace,  built  for  Charles  II.,  — 
a  tame  structure  of  light-reddish  stone,  three  stories  high,  and 
of  Italian  architecture.  The  old  courtyard  is  now  a  gravelled 
parade-ground,  and  the  palace  is  used  for  barracks  :  — 

"  To  what  base  uses  we  may  yet  return." 

The  music  and  revelry  of  the  festive  board,  conspicuous  in 
which  perhaps  was  the  fascinating  voice  of  Nell  Gwynn,  are  now 
supplanted  by  the  notes  of  the  ear-piercing  fife  and  startling 
bugle,  the  clatter  of  arms  and  the  beat  of  the  drum.  The 
courtly  king  is  two  hundred  years  dead.  New  people  walk 
these  grounds,  few  ever  giving  thought  to  the  fact  that  here 
the  highest  of  the  land  once  dwelt. 

"  The  cathedral,"  says  the  reader,  "  what  of  that  ?  "  Of  course 
it  had  an  early  visit,  the  first  hour  after  our  arrival,  and  it  lives  in 
most  pleasant  recollection.  We  have  said  understanding^  what 
has  been  written  of  cathedrals  before.  We  have  needed  all  the 
adjectives  of  the  language,  but  at  times  have  felt  the  poverty  of 
words  to  express  our  meaning  when  a  cathedral  was  under  con- 
sideration. 


WINCHESTER.  119 

Winchester  Cathedral !  How  futile  will  be  the  attempt  to  speak 
worthily  of  it ;  but  the  reader  should  have  some  facts  concerning 
it.  The  longest  of  all  the  twenty-nine  cathedrals,  it  has  the  finest 
nave  in  the  kingdom,  and  a  history  of  more  than  nine  hundred 
years.  It  is  another  of  the  architectural  wonders  of  Great  Britain. 
The  lawn  and  great  trees  furnish  a  befitting  environment,  and  a 
genuine  cathedral  atmosphere  envelops  the  venerable  ecclesiasti- 
cal residences  near  by.  The  ruins  of  the  monastery  and  abbey 
lend  their  charm,  and  the  grand  cathedral  stands  solemn  and 
majestic  in  their  midst.  Founded  in  648,  in  980  the  stones 
were  refashioned  into  their  present  forms,  which  have  continued 
to  this  day.  Centuries  have  now  passed  since  all  was  complete  ; 
and  save  for  the  repair  of  a  crumbling  stone,  or  a  restoration  of 
some  portions  to  original  conditions,  nothing  needs  to  be  clone. 
It  is  5  2  7  feet  in  length,  seven  more  than  Quincy  Market  in  our 
Boston,  and  186  feet  wide  at  the  transepts.  The  low  demure- 
looking  tower,  only  26  feet  taller  than  the  roof,  is  130  feet  high. 
In  color,  it  is  much  like  Salisbury  Cathedral,  —  a  dark  indistinct 
gray,  with  thin  moss-patches.  Parts  of  the  exterior  are  very  rich 
in  decoration,  and  a  feeling  akin  to  admiration  is  inspired  as  one 
gazes  at  the  turreted  walls.  We  enter  the  nave.  This  part 
was  built  under  the  administration  of  William  of  Wykeham,  who 
was  also  the  architect.  He  was  made  bishop  of  the  See  in  1366, 
and  died  in  1404.  It  is  imposing  in  its  proportions  ;  and  simple, 
though  gracefully  elegant,  is  the  decoration  of  columns,  arches, 
and  ceiling.  White  throughout  as  new-fallen  snow,  every  mould- 
ing and  carving  is  of  such  admirable  size  as  to  be  clear  and  dis- 
tinct in  outline.  The  interior  is  more  than  one  hundred  feet 
high.  The  light  is  solemnly  toned  down,  and  everywhere  there 
is  an  impression  of  vastness.  And  how  can  pen  or  tongue 
adequately  picture  the  great  reredos,  the  strange  monuments, 
and  the  countless  mementoes  of  departed  worth  ?  Again  comes 
the  impression,  this  is  the  cathedral. 

Here  sleeps  Isaac  Walton.  Wood,  the  historian,  says  of  him  : 
"  In  his  last  years  he  lived  mostly  in  families  of  eminent  clergy- 
men of  England,  of  whom  he  was  much  beloved."  Dec.  15, 
1683,  at  the  age  of  ninety,  he  died  in  Winchester,  at  the  resi- 
dence of  his  son-in-law.  Who  that  reads  his  "Complete  Angler, 
or  the  Contemplative  Man's  Recreation,"  does  not  admire  the 
sweet  temper  and  good  sense,  the  cheerful  disposition  and 
honest  purpose  of  the  old  saint,  enthusiastic  in  his  devotion  to 
his  pastime  and  calling?  Nature  and  his  spirit  were  in  remark- 
able harmony.     A  large  flat  stone  tells  us  that  here  his  dust  was 


120  ENGLAND. 

deposited  nearly  three  centuries  ago,  but  the  bookstores  of  Eng- 
land and  America  prove  that,  like  the  great  Webster,  he  still 
lives. 

"  So  works  the  man  of  just  renown, 
On  men  when  centuries  have  flown ; 
For  what  a  good  man  would  attain, 
The  narrow  bounds  of  life  restrain; 
And  this  the  balm  of  Genius  gives: 
Man  dies,  but  after  death  he  lives." 

On  a  marble  pedestal  reposes  the  effigy  of  Wykeham,  once 
painted  in  gaudy  colors,  —  perfect  yet  in  every  line  of  his  benig- 
nant countenance,  of  his  stole  and  his  canonical  robe.  Beneath 
this  monument  has  rested  his  revered  dust  for  nearly  five  hun- 
dred years. 

Forty-three  years  after  the  burial  of  the  great  bishop,  on  the 
13th  of  April,  1447,  trie  solemn  stillness  was  disturbed  by  a 
procession  to  deposit  the  remains  of  Henry  of  Beaufort,  the 
successor  of  Wykeham  in  1404,  afterward  made  cardinal  of  St. 
Eusebius,  by  Martin  V.  This  is  he  of  whom  Shakespeare  said, 
"  He  died  and  made  no  sign."  How  unlike  John  Knox,  of 
whom  Carlyle  says  :  "  When  he  lay  a-dying  it  was  asked  of  him, 
'  Hast  thou  hope  ?  '  He  spake  nothing,  but  raised  his  finger  and 
pointed  upward,  and  so  he  died." 

Beaufort  was  a  remarkable  man.  He  was  president  of  the 
court  when  Joan  of  Arc  was  on  trial ;  by  his  countenance  and 
aid  she  was  sentenced  to  death.  What  influence  this  dust  once 
had  on  kings  !  Out  of  Beaufort's  vast  cathedral  revenues, 
$150,000  was  advanced  to  his  nephew,  Henry  V.  To  the  infant 
Henry  VI. ,  who  was  brought  up  under  his  immediate  care,  he 
advanced  $50,000.  But  we  must  not  play  the  historian  now, 
and  only  call  attention  to  the  fact  that,  in  the  play  of  Henry 
VI.,  Shakespeare  represents  him  as  dying  in  great  remorse.  As 
a  redeeming  quality  be  it  said,  that  when  spirit  and  body  must 
part  companionship,  the  good  angel  of  charity  took  possession 
of  him,  and  his  great  property  went  to  works  of  charity.  The 
hospital  of  St.  Cross  speaks  for  him  more  eloquently  than  mon- 
umental stone,  or  the  chantry  where  he  ministered  in  the  great 
cathedral  itself. 

Here  too  is  kingly  dust,  that  of  William  II.,  son  of  the  Con- 
queror, —  William  Rufus,  as  they  called  him,  because  of  his  red 
hair.  Shot  in  the  New  Forest  in  the  year  1100,  by  Walter 
Tyrrel,  Lord  of  Poix,  he  died  instantly,  at  the  age  of  forty-four, 
and  for  783  years  his  royal  body  has  been  mouldering  here. 


READING.  121 

But  he  is  only  one  of  many,  for  over  each  side  range  of  the 
choir  stalls  are  oak  chests,  —  containing  what  ?  Records  of  the 
church  or  important  papers  of  State?  Jewels  of  deceased 
bishops,  or  their  robes?  No  ;  but  the  mortal  remains  of  Wessex 
and  Saxon  kings.  Each  chest  is  perhaps  three  feet  long,  eigh- 
teen inches  square,  and  bears  on  its  side  the  name  of  its  occu- 
pant. These  bones  were  once  buried  in  the  crypt,  between  the 
years  1126  and  1171,  but  were  put  into  these  chests  by  order  of 
Bishop  De  Blow.  Three  hundred  and  eighty-four  parishes  pay 
their  homage  to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester.  No  See  in  all  Eng- 
land is  as  rich  in  its  revenues  as  this. 

As  we  pass  to  other  visits  the  thought  comes  that,  like  Newton, 
we  have  picked  up  but  a  few  pebbles  on  a  limitless  shore.  As 
the  immortal  Sumner  said,  "  the  description  is,  to  the  reality,  as 
a  farthing  candle  held  up  to  the  sun."  At  12  M.  we  leave  for 
the  old  city  of  Newbury,  but  on  our  way  to  take  a  look  at 

READING, 

where  we  arrive  May  10,  after  a  pleasant  ride  of  two  hours. 
We  found  a  modern  city,  more  than  usually  American  in  general 
appearance.  There  are,  however,  examples  of  antiquity,  and  one 
learns  that  he  is  in  no  new  place,  but  in  one  modernized  from 
the  old.  There  are  32,324  inhabitants.  It  is  an  important  rail- 
road and  canal  centre,  and  is  noted  for  the  manufacture  of 
Reading  Biscuits,  even  now  to  be  found  in  the  large  stores  of 
America.  Before  the  days  of  Bond  at  Wilmington,  Kennedy 
at  Cambridgeport,  and  the  Pearsons  at  Newburyport,  these 
crackers  were  common  in  New  England,  and  in  fact  all  over  the 
United  States.  Reading  is  a  market  for  the  sale  of  velvets, 
silks,  and  agricultural  products  and  implements,  and  from  it, 
large  exportations  are  made.  The  seed-gardens  and  conserva- 
tories of  Sutton  &  Sons  are  well  known  throughout  Great  Brit- 
ian.  On  visiting  their  conservatories  we  saw  the  finest  collection 
of  calceolaries  and  primroses  that  we  have  ever  seen,  or  ever 
expect  to  see.  The  air  of  England  is  especially  adapted  to  the 
development  of  these  plants,  and  the  firm  has  made  them  a 
specialty.  The  finely  shaded  and  wide  avenues,  and  the  large 
number  of  comfortable  dwelling-houses  with  their  gardens,  and 
the  general  look  of  the  business  portions,  fully  reminded  us  of 
Worcester,  Mass.,  though  unlike  the  latter,  it  is  built  on  level 
ground.  Reading  has  three  ancient  parish  churches,  and  a 
grammar  school  founded  by  Henry  VIII. ;  also  the  remains  of 


122  ENGLAND. 

an  abbey  founded  by  Henry  I.,  who  died  1 135.  The  ancient 
grounds  now  contain  a  fine  public  walk.  Parliaments  were  held 
here  as  early  as  the  thirteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  and  so 
the  place  was  notable  as  being  frequently  visited  by  kings  and 
nobles. 

An  item  of  interest  is  that  Archbishop  Laud,  the  notorious 
persecutor  of  the  Non-conformists,  who  was  executed  on  Tower 
Hill,  London,  Jan.  10,  1645,  was  Dorn  nere  Oct.  7,  1573.  One 
of  his  infamous  deeds  was  to  cause  Dr.  Leighton,  a  Presbyterian 
pastor  of  Scotland  (the  author,  in  1628,  of  a  book  entitled 
"  Sion's  Plea  against  the  Prelacy  "  ),  to  be  condemned  to  pay  a 
fine  of  $50,000  ;  be  twice  publicly  whipped  and  pilloried  in 
Cheapside,  London ;  to  have  his  ears  cut  off,  his  nostrils  split 
open,  and  his  cheeks  branded  S.  S.  (Sower  of  Sedition)  ;  and, 
in  addition,  to  be  imprisoned  ten  years  in  the  Fleet  Prison. 
This  was  an  exceptional  example  of  his  cruelty,  but  even  his 
mild  rule  was  barbaric.  He  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  clothier 
of  Reading,  and  held  offices  as  follows  :  President  of  St.  John's 
College  at  Oxford,  16 11,  at  the  age  of  thirty-  eight ;  Dean  of 
Gloucester,  1616  ;  Prebend  of  Westminster,  1620  ;  Bishop  of  St. 
David's,  1621  ;  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  1626  ;  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don, 1628;  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  1633.  A  reaction  in 
public  sentiment  took  place.  The  cruelties  of  the  church,  insti- 
gated by  him,  had  an  effect  similar  to  that  of  the  Fugitive  Slave 
Law  in  the  United  States.  The  poison  carried  with  it  an  anti- 
dote. Immediately  after  the  Long  Parliament,  he  was  impeached 
for  high  treason,  and  presently  we  find  the  archbishop  of  the 
realm  languishing  in  the  Tower.  An  imprisonment  of  three 
years  followed  before  he  was  brought  to  wearisome  trial,  when 
he  defended  himself  with  distinguished  ability,  but  received  a 
sentence  that,  in  the  light  of  patient  investigation,  is  pronounced 
unjust  and  illegal. 

One  can  hardly  read  the  history  of  these  English  towns,  or 
walk  through  their  streets,  however  modern  they  may  appear, 
and  not  discover  that  he  is  in  Old  England  and  not  in  Young 
America.  We  carried  away  pleasant  memories  of  this  place. 
The  modernish  brick  and  stone  buildings,  with  their  tiled  roofs, 
many  of  them  new  and  of  a  bright-red  color  ;  the  Avon  Canal, 
with  its  slowly  moving  Bristol  boats ;  the  sluggish  rivers  Thames 
and  Kennet,  affording  avenues  of  transportation  like  our  great 
railways,  —  all  conspired  to  make  us  think  of  home  ;  but  St. 
Mary's  Church,  half  a  thousand  years  old,  with  Norman  columns 
and  arches  on  one  side  of  the  nave,  and  Early  English  on  the 


NEWBURY.  123 

other,  —  with  its  neat  and  quaint  burial-ground  about  it,  — 
made  us  realize  anew  that  we  were  yet  in  Old  England. 

At  4.30  p.  m.  we  took  train  for  Newbury.  There  was  never  a 
more  desirable  country  to  ride  over,  or  a  more  delightful  season 
at  which  to  see  England  to  best  advantage.  What  our  country 
shows  at  this  season  of  the  year  is  here  also  to  be  seen. 

A  general  absence  of  fruit-trees  is  painfully  apparent.  A  small 
part  of  the  land  only  is  devoted  to  cultivated  crops.  Grass  pre- 
vails. Beef,  mutton,  and  dairy  products  absorb  the  attention. 
No  modern  buildings  of  any  kind  are  to  be  seen.  In  the  cities 
are  red-tiled  roofs,  while  a  few  are  slated ;  but  thatched  roofs 
abound  in  the  country.  The  surface  of  the  land  is  undulating. 
General  comfort  prevails ;  and  the  impression  is  that  in  his 
way,  the  English  farmer  is  working  to  his  own  advantage  and  is 
satisfied.  He  has  no  fences  to  keep  in  repair,  —  only  hedges 
as  land  divisions.  When  we  saw  cattle  and  horses,  and  even 
sheep,  restrained  by  these  often  apparently  thin  barriers,  we  got 
the  impression  that  the  animals  were  more  easily  managed  than 
are  ours  in  America.  It  is  possible  they  inherit  these  traits  of 
obedience.  It  may  be  that  the  long  training  of  their  sires  and 
dams  has  made  their  offspring  tractable  also,  for  like  begets  like, 
the  world  over. 

NEWBURY. 

This  is  aside  from  the  main  road  between  Reading  and  Lon- 
don, and  is  reached  by  a  short  passage  over  the  Hungerford 
branch.  On  arrival  we  went  immediately  to  the  Jack  House 
tavern.  The  present  building  is  a  part  of  the  dwelling-house 
once  owned  and  occupied  by  the  famous  Jack  of  Newbury,  who 
figured  in  English  history.  He  was  a  celebrated  clothier,  or 
cloth  manufacturer,  and  born  at  Winchcomb,  in  Gloucestershire, 
about  1470.  On  a  slab,  in  the  floor  of  the  parish  church  of  St. 
Nicholas,  are  brass  effigies  and  the  following  inscription  :  — 

Off  yo  charitie  pray  for  the  soule  of  John 

Smalwade,  alias  Winchcom, 

And  Alys  his  wife.     John  Dydd  the  XV  day 

of  February  mcccccxix. 

He  espoused  the  cause  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  at  his  own 
expense  equipped  200  men  and  sent  them  towards  Flodden 
Field.  When  the  company  arrived  at  Stoney  Stratford  they 
were  met  and  reviewed  by  Queen  Catharine,  who  complimented 
them  in  the  highest  terms  ;  but  immediately  news  came  from  the 


124  ENGLAND. 

Earl  of  Surrey  that  the  soldiers  might  be  dismissed,  for  a  victory 
had  been  gained  over  the  Scots,  whose  king  had  been  slain  in 
battle.  Jack  was  much  disappointed,  but  his  feelings  were  re- 
lieved by  the  promise  of  a  visit  from  his  Majesty,  which  was 
made  at  a  later  day.  We  are  told  that  he  much  enjoyed  "  show- 
ing the  king  his  factory,  and  that  the  floor  of  the  room  wherein 
the  banquet  was  held  was  covered  with  broadcloth  instead  of 
rushes."  Jack  was  very  generous,  and  did  much  for  the  poor 
and  for  public  institutions.  The  tower  of  the  church,  and  a  large 
part  of  its  nave,  were  paid  for  by  him. 

In  the  year  1811  an  extraordinary  feat  was  accomplished 
here.  Two  sheep  were  sheared  ;  the  wool  was  carded,  spun, 
warped,  loomed,  and  woven  j  the  cloth  was  burred,  milled, 
dyed,  dried,  sheared,  and  pressed ;  a  coat  was  made  by  White 
of  Newbury,  and  worn  by  Sir  J.  Throgmorton,  in  the  presence  of 
five  thousand  spectators,  —  all  within  thirteen  hours  and  twenty 
minutes.  The  widow  of  Mr.  Coxter,  who  had  charge  of  the 
exploit,  completed  her  one  hundredth  year,  January  1,  1875. 

Another  important  personage  here  was  Rev.  Dr.  Twiss,  rector 
of  St.  Nicholas.  He  was  the  presiding  officer,  or  prolocutor,  of 
the  Assembly  of  divines  at  Westminster,  when  the  famous  cate- 
chisms were  compiled,  though  they  were  not  adopted  till  after 
his  death.  The  Larger  Cathechism  was  sent  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  October  22,  1647,  and  the  Shorter  on  November  25 
of  the  same  year ;  but  for  some  reason  they  were  not  adopted 
till  July,  1648,  two  hundred  and  thirty-five  years  ago.  The 
shorter  catechism  soon  found  its  way  to  New  England,  and 
was  printed  in  the  New  England  Primer,  —  a  little  edu- 
cational, but  somewhat  proselyting  work,  asserting  that  "  In 
Adam's  fall,  we  sinned  all."  It  became  the  principal  instruc- 
tion book  in  New  England  families  and  in  some  of  the  public 
schools.  In  spite  of  its  old  and  heavy  theology,  it  was  the  most 
comprehensive  schoolbook  then  published,  and,  with  all  the  light 
and  advance  of  the  nineteenth  century,  has  never  been  excelled. 
The  hot-house  system  of  cramming  was  not  then  known  ;  but 
this  concise  handbook,  well  understood,  did  a  masterly  work 
which  we  can  never  expect  to  see  excelled,  till  the  child  is 
treated  as  a  human  being,  and  tasks  not  exacted  (irrespective 
of  intellectual  capacities)  at  which  parents  and  teachers  would 
themselves  rebel. 

Speaking  of  students,  —  Mr.  Benjamin  Woodbridge,  of  our 
American  Newbury,  Mass.,  the  first  graduate  of  Havard  College, 
went  to  Newbury,  England,  and  became  rector  of  St.  Nicholas, 


NEWBURY.  125 

after  the  death  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Twiss,  so  that  our  town 
has  double  honors.  Mr.  Woodbridge  remained  rector  more 
than  twenty  years,  —  a  learned  and  eloquent  preacher,  —  till  at 
last,  in  consequence  of  his  strongly  non-conformist  doctrines, 
imbibed  partly  in  New  England,  he  was  driven  from  his  pulpit, 
and  suffered  great  persecution.  After  this  he  was  an  indepen- 
dent preacher  for  twenty  years,  and  died  at  the  age  of  sixty-two, 
in  the  year  1685.  In  spite  of  his  doctrines  he  was  buried  with 
honor  in  the  church  where  he  so  long  ministered.  Speaking  of 
him  in  connection  with  Harvard  College,  Cotton  Mather  says  : 
"  He  was  the  leader  of  the  whole  company  and  ...  a  star  of 
the  first  magnitude  in  his  constellation."  And  the  historian 
Calamy  says  :  "  He  was  a  great  man  every  way,  .  .  .  the  first 
graduate  of  the  college,  .  .  .  the  lasting  glory  as  well  as  the 
first  fruits  of  the  Academy." 

Rev.  John  Cotton,  one  of  the  earliest  pastors  of  the  First 
Church  in  Boston,  dying  in  1652,  was,  at  the  time  he  left  Eng- 
land for  America  (and  had  been  for  twenty  years  before)  the 
Vicar  of  St.  Botolph's,  the  great  parish  church  of  Boston,  Eng- 
land, —  a  fact  that  gave  our  Boston  its  name.  Woodbridge  was 
the  personal  friend  of  Cotton,  and  wrote  the  following  epitaph 
on  the  latter's  tombstone  ;  and  this  doubtless  suggested  to  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  the  celebrated  epitaph  he  prepared  for  himself. 

A  Living  Breathing  Bible  ;  Tables  where 

Both  Covenants,  at  Large,  engraven  were  ; 

Gospel  and  Law,  in  's  Heart,  had  Each  its  Column; 

His  Head  an  Index  to  the  Sacred  volume  ; 

His  very  name  a  Title  Page;  and  next, 

His  life  a  Commentary  on  the  Text. 

O  What  a  Monument  of  Glorious  Worth, 

When  in  a  New  Edition,  he  comes  forth, 

Without  Erratas  may  we  think  he  'l  be 

In  Leaves  and  Covers  of  Eternity  ! 

The  town  is  situated  on  the  River  Kennet,  which  runs  through 
the  centre  of  the  business  part,  and  is  crossed  by  a  single-arched 
stone  bridge.  There  are  6,602  inhabitants.  It  has  but  few 
streets,  which  are  well  paved,  but  quiet  lanes  abound.  There  is 
picturesquencss  everywhere,  and  especially  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
old  St.  Nicholas  Church,  where  the  grouping  of  roads,  river, 
canal,  meadows,  trees,  pe<  uliar  buildings,  produce  an  effect  sel- 
dom excelled.  The  Lombardy  poplar  is  conspicuous,  as  it  often 
is  in  these  landscapes. 

One  place  of  note  is  Donnington  Castle,  once  the  home  of 


126  ENGLAND. 

the  poet  Chaucer,  to  which  he  retired  in  1397.  As  he  died 
Oct.  25,  1400,  this  was  probably  his  residence  at  the  time  of 
his  decease.  The  Shaw  House,  completed  in  1 581,  an  elegant 
structure  in  the  Elizabethan  style  of  architecture,  is  still  standing, 
with  its  ample  grounds,  now  as  it  was  nearly  three  hundred  years 
ago.  It  was  the  headquarters  of  Cromwell  during  his  campaign 
in  the  neighborhood,  battles  being  fought  here  in  1643  an<^  1644. 

A  couple  of  curious  incidents  are  connected  with  the  parish 
church  of  St.  Nicholas.  Some  hundreds  of  years  ago  a  person 
bequeathed  a  sum  of  money,  the  income  to  be  used  for  pur- 
chasing bread  for  the  poor.  While  we  were  in  the  church  on 
Saturday,  the  baker  brought  the  lot  for  distribution  on  Sunday ; 
and  on  the  morrow,  during  service,  the  new  bread  being  piled  on 
a  table  in  the  great  room,  the  fragrance  of  this  charity,  like  sweet 
incense,  permeated  the  place.  The  work  will  continue  preach- 
ing about  "  the  bread  of  life  "  and  the  practical  part  of  Chris- 
tianity. This  custom  is  not  peculiar  to  this  church.  We  saw  it 
in  some  of  the  old  churches  of  London  also,  the  glass  case  on 
the  vestibule  wall  being  filled  on  Saturday,  to  be  delivered  on 
the  next  day  to  the  worthy  poor. 

A  new  rector  had  been  installed  over  St.  Nicholas  parish  the 
week  before,  and  the  secular  paper  stated  that  on  the  arrival  of 
the  incumbent  in  the  city  the  church  bells  were  rung.  On  Sat- 
urday before  the  Sunday  when  he  preached  his  first  sermon,  he 
(according  to  old  custom)  entered  the  church,  locked  the  door, 
rang  the  large  bell,  and  then  unlocked  the  door  and  let  in  the 
vestrymen,  delivering  the  key  to  them,  and  they  in  turn  to 
the  sexton.  On  the  following  day,  Sunday,  he  formally  read  and 
subscribed  to  the  Thirty-nine  Articles.  Whether  he  is  to  inter- 
pret them  as  would  the  Dean  of  Westminster,  or  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  we  are  not  able  to  say. 

A  few  months  ago,  in  making  repairs  to  the  chancel,  some 
brass  plates,  or  mural  tablets,  were  found,  which  are  now  placed 
on  the  walls  with  others.     Two  of  them  read  as  follows  :  — 

A  MEMORIAL  OF  MY  FATHER,  MR.  HUGH  SHEP- 
LEIGH,    SOMETIMES    RECTOR    AND    PASTOR    OF    THIS 

Church  and  Town  of  Newbury,  who  was  born 
at  Prescott  in  Lancashire  1526  and  bueried 
heere  the  thirde  of  maye  i596  aged  70  yeares. 

Here  lies  the  bodie  of  Francis  Trenchard 
of  Normantown  in  Coventie  of  Wilts  Esquire, 
who  departed  this  life  the  sixt  of  November 
1635,  leaving  issue  elizabeth  his  only  child. 


READING.  127 

Finally,  a  word  concerning  the  old  pulpit.  It  is  of  stone, 
octagonal  in  form,  not  very  large  or  high,  but  of  somewhat 
elaborate  design.  To  protect  it  from  injury  in  the  time  of 
Cromwell,  the  parish  officers  caused  it  to  be  whitewashed,  thus 
making  it  appear  to  be  a  cheap  affair  and  unworthy  of  atten- 
tion. It  remained  in  this  condition  till  recently,  when  its  true 
nature  was  accidentally  discovered.  Originally  it  was  gilded  in 
some  parts,  and  painted  in  positive  colors,  as  red,  green,  yellow. 
The  wash  has  been  removed,  and  it  is  now  proposed  to  restore 
it  to  its  former  condition. 

One  attempts  much  when  he  begins  to  recite  a  few  among  the 
thousands  of  interesting  facts  connected  with  Old  England.  We 
have  tried  to  be  judicious,  and  are  entitled  to  more  credit  for 
what  we  omit  than  for  what  we  describe.  Having  gone  down 
the  western  side  of  England  ( with  regrets  for  having  passed  by 
Exeter  and  Wells,  at  both  of  which  are  cathedrals)  we  continue 
from  the  southern  part  northerly  towards  London,  stopping  by 
the  way  at  Newbury  and  Reading.  We  at  10  a.  m.  on  this  same 
Sunday,  having  attended  an  early  service  at  St.  Nicholas's,  take 
our  start  for  the  famed  metropolis.  Once  more  we  rode  over 
the  Hungerford  branch,  back  to 

READING. 

The  day  was  warm.  Probably  the  mercury  stood  at  about 
75  degrees.  After  a  walk  over  the  town  we  attended  divine 
service.  At  2  p.  m.  we  were  back  in  the  station,  waiting  for  the 
train.  Having  dined  we  had  some  time  on  our  hands,  and  so 
we  took  out  our  notebook  and  wrote  about  what  follows. 

The  sermon  was  extempore,  though  well  thought  out,  and 
ingenious  and  unlooked-for  in  thought  and  expression.  The 
elements  of  good  preaching  were  there,  but  the  theologic  atmo- 
sphere was  bad.  There  was  too  much  East  and  too  little  West 
in  it.  The  subject  was  the  spies  that  went  up  to  investigate  the 
Canaan  question.  Most  of  the  English  preachers  delight  to  talk 
about  Moses,  Caleb,  and  Jeremiah,  forgetting,  or  not  seeming  to 
know,  of  men  who  have  lived  three  thousand  years  later.  It 's 
easy  to  tell  about  what  was,  rather  than  to  observe  and  investi- 
gate, and  know  what  really  is,  and  is  surely  to  be.  The  best 
thing  about  this  sermon  was  that  the  preacher  discovered  an 
inclination  to  look  with  leniency  on  opposing  thinkers  in  the 
domain  of  theology,  and  to  treat  them  as  Christians.  He  did  n't 
like  the  new  ideas,  but  advised  his  hearers  to  accept  the  situa- 


128  ENGLAND. 

tion  and  trust  that  God  would  in  time  tire  out  the  investigators, 
and  so  things  would  relapse  into  their  ancient  condition.  He 
was  oblivious  that  his  Congregationalism  was  entirely  indebted 
for  its  existence  to  the  fact  that,  years  ago,  some  people  did  the 
very  thing  he  condemned,  investigate  theological  questions  and 
ascertain  whether  their  "  thus  saith  the  Lord  "  was  real  or  fan- 
cied, —  that  is  to  say,  discover  whether  the  interpretations  of 
the  Word  were  according  to  fact  and  true  philosophy,  or  only 
traditional.  The  beam  in  his  eyes  disabled  him  from  taking  a 
mote  from  the  eyes  of  others.  He  declared  that  the  Israelites 
had  the  pillar  of  fire  and  the  cloud,  and  so  have  we  the  Bible  ; 
but  the  propriety  of  investigating  the  true  meaning  of  either  was 
not  to  be  tolerated. 

At  one  o'clock  we  are  just  out  of  church.  Have  heard  an  old 
sermon  in  Old  England,  —  a  good  one,  however,  of  the  kind. 
We  go  on  our  way  rejoicing  for  many  things,  but  not  sorry  that 
the  long  service  is  over,  though  sorry  that  in  the  light  of  the 
nineteenth-century  thought,  men  of  education,  watchmen  on 
the  walls  of  Zion,  do  not  better  discern  the  signs  of  the  times. 
We  are,  however,  inclined  to  say  with  Ovid,  — 

Our  bane  and  physic  the  same  earth  bestows, 
And  near  the  noisome  nettle  blooms  the  rose. 

Our  seat  taken  in  the  railway  carriage,  we  are  on  our  way  to 
great  London.  We  think  over  our  roundabout  way  to  the  place, 
which  most  Americans  reach  the  first  or  second  day  from  Liv- 
erpool. A  can't  wait  condition  takes  possession  of  them,  and 
they  hurry  on.  We  landed  at  Queenstown  twenty  days  ago. 
How  long  a  time  to  get  to  London,  —  twice  as  long  as  a  passage 
across  the  Atlantic  Ocean  !  Yet  what  a  vast  experience  in  the 
three  weeks  !  What  sights  we  have  seen,  what  thoughts  con- 
ceived !  What  seeds  of  thought  have  been  sown  to  bear  fruit  in 
the  future  !  Into  how  many  new  channels  has  thought  been 
turned  !  We  ride  in  meditation  thus  over  miles  of  this  good 
country. 


LONDON.  129 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LONDON. 

AT  3.30  p.  m.  we  are  in  Paddington  Station  at  the  West 
End  of  London,  feeling  much  at  home,  for  the  train- 
house  is  like  the  Lowell  and  Providence  depots  at  Bos- 
ton, though  larger.  Our  impressions  of  London  are  not  as 
anticipated.  There  is  less  crowding  of  the  buildings  and  nar- 
rowness of  the  streets.  The  houses  are  neither  new  nor  old. 
Our  older  western  cities  well  represent  this  part  of  London. 
Half  of  Cincinnati  and  Cleveland,  or  a  quarter-section  of  Buf- 
falo, typifies  this  part  of  London  better  than  do  our  eastern 
cities.  A  native  of  those  cities  would  feel  at  home  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  this  railway  station,  and  would  hardly  imagine,  from  build- 
ings, streets,  teams,  or  people,  that  he  was  not  amid  scenes 
familiar  from  his  youth  up.  By  recommendation  of  a  railway 
companion  we  took  rooms  at  a  lodging-house  near  the  station. 
After  dinner  we  began  our  tour.  The  map  was  brought  into 
requisition,  and  —  after  passing  through  a  few  streets,  and  being 
yet  more  impressed  with  the  American  Westernish  look  of  every- 
thing —  we  at  length,  in  a  half-hour's  walk,  arrived  at  Hyde  Park. 
It  is  "  a  fine  old  Common,"  as  Bostonians  would  call  it,  con- 
taining four  hundred  acres.  It  has  long  been  used  for  public 
purposes,  for  it  became  public  property  in  1535.  It  was  sold 
by  Parliament  in  1652,  but  was  recovered  by  the  Crown  after 
the  Restoration  in  1660.  Like  our  Common,  it  was  for  years  a 
pasture  ground ;  but  it  was  improved,  and  became  a  resort  for 
thousands  of  pleasure-seekers.  In  1730-33  a  body  of  water 
was  introduced,  arranged  in  curvilinear  outline,  and  therefore 
named  the  Serpentine.  Now  there  are  gravelled  avenues  and 
groups  of  trees.  While  not  presenting  the  uniformity  of  the 
trees  bounding  the  principal  avenues  on  Boston  Common,  it  is 
still  an  admirable  park  ;  and  its  vast  extent,  in  the  very  heart  of 
London,  makes  it  a  resort  for  hundreds  of  thousands.  On  this 
fine  Sunday  afternoon  a  great  number  were  enjoying  it.  What 
struck  us  forcibly  was  the  general  uniformity  in  the  appearance 

9 


L30  ENGLAND. 

of  the  people  ;  none  were  representatives  either  of  a  very  poor 
class  or  of  a  very  rich  one. 

Parts  of  the  grounds  are  cultivated  with  flowers,  like  Boston 
Common  and  Public  Garden  combined.  Near  this  is  Kensing- 
ton Garden,  and  other  similar  places,  making  the  West  End  of 
London  remarkably  favored  in  these  respects.  A  long  walk  over 
one  of  the  principal  avenues  of  this  place,  and  we  were  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Buckingham  Palace,  the  Queen's  winter  resi- 
dence. It  is  a  large,  oblong  building,  of  brown  freestone,  four 
stories  high,  and  hotel-like  in  appearance.  Back  some  hundred 
or  more  feet  from  the  square,  made  by  the  junction  of  two  or 
three  great  thoroughfares,  it  has  a  high  but  open  iron  fence 
enclosing  the  grounds.  There  are  two  principal  gateways,  and 
an  amplitude  of  rear  grounds  and  gardens.  Many  shops  are 
within  a  minute's  walk  of  the  premises.  Some  portions  of  the 
vicinity  are  very  aristocratic,  like  Grosvenor  Square  and  its  radiat- 
ing streets,  in  which  are  palatial  residences  in  close  blocks. 
( lontiguous  to  parks,  and  having  the  public  thoroughfares  about 
it,  one  hardly  feels  that  this  is  the  famed  Buckingham  Palace. 

We  are  aware  that  we  have  began  to  talk  about  London.  We 
will,  however,  not  promise  anything  like  a  formal  description,  — 
certainly,  no  complete  one.  London  is  great  beyond -descrip- 
tion. All  that  will  be  undertaken  is  a  statement  of  what  we  saw, 
with  the  addition  of  any  fact  that  history  may  suggest  as  imme- 
diately interesting.  Very  clean  are  the  streets.  Never  were 
better  pavements,  especially  on  the  sidewalks.  There  is  no  look 
of  the  London  we  had  pictured.  We  had  expected  too  much 
o(  a  frivolous  Parisian  look  in  London's  West  End.  A  few  ave- 
nues were  up  to  our  anticipation  ;  but  all,  even  here,  is  not  up 
to  this  high  mark.  There  is  nothing  ancient  in  appearance  ;  and 
yet  nothing  looks  entirely  new.  We  should  judge  that  every- 
thing had  been  finished  twenty  years  before,  and  left  untouched. 
Some  shade-trees,  some  flower-yards,  a  garden  here  and  there, 
are  to  be  seen  ;  but  generally  all  is  solid  and  rich.  A  generous 
number  of  carriages  and  people  are  in  the  thoroughfares,  but  no 
great  crowd.  Imagine  these  things,  and  you  have  the  aristo- 
(  ratic  West  End  of  London.  We  walked  on,  and  soon  in  the 
distance  caught  a  view  of  the  towers  of  Westminster  Abbey. 
We  went  through  street  after  street,  out  of  right-angles  with 
each  other,  but  not  crooked  nor  very  narrow ;  light  and  airy 
was  the  atmosphere,  at  this  season  free  from  smoke  or  the  Lon- 
don fog.  There  was  a  Boston  May-day  look  about  everything. 
It  was  cool  enough  to  make  overcoats  useful  every  day  till 


LONDON.  131 

the  first  of  June.  At  6  p.  m.  we  had  reached  the  abbey,  and 
were  a  mile  or  more  from  our  lodgings.  The  roads,  or  avenues, 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  edifice  are  very  wide,  and  form  squares 
about  its  venerable  grounds,  the  focus  of  a  business  centre. 
Nowhere,  though,  was  there  an  over-crowded  condition.  At 
times  there  were  crowds,  —  much  more  so  than  at  others ;  but 
never  what  might  be  expected  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Abbey, 
Parliament  Houses,  Westminster  Bridge,  and  other  noted  places 
that  centre  here. 

We  are  really  seeing  New  London.  Streets  are  newly  finished, 
widened,  and  everything  is  modern ;  and  yet  few  things  exist 
that  appear  to  be  very  new.    The  smoke  subdues  all  freshness. 

England  is  old.  Nature  recognizes  the  fact,  and  sees  to  it  that 
an  ancient  dignity  is  not  disturbed.  Nineteenth-century  life  has 
asserted  its  existence,  but  the  old,  old  fog  and  smoke  are  great 
factors  in  keeping  up  the  look  of  dignity  that  too  much  new 
brilliant  work  might  lower.  Buildings  are  mostly  of  sandstone  ; 
some  of  brick ;  no  trace  of  wood  anywhere.  Elegant  stores 
are  from  three  to  six  stories  in  height.  They  vary  in  architec- 
ture as  do  those  of  Boston  or  New  York.  Think  of  such  a 
place,  and  you  have  the  Westminster  part  of  London.  But  what 
of  the  abbey  itself?  Well,  much  more  than  we  can  tell.  Had 
we  not  seen  grand  cathedrals  we  should  probably  be  more  pro- 
fuse in  adjectives  in  speaking  of  this  edifice.  The  structure  is 
large  and  imposing,  but  does  not  on  the  exterior  give  one  an 
impression  of  vastness  or  great  antiquity,  though  it  looks  any- 
thing but  modern.  It  is  built  of  Portland  stone,  as  are  all  the 
old  churches  of  London,  including  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  —  a 
sandstone  of  considerable  hardness  and  durability,  of  a  light 
appearance,  approaching  white.  The  general  effect  is  that  of 
white  marble,  slightly  tinged  with  blue,  —  a  milk  and  water  hue. 

Now  comes  a  qualification  which  applies  to  all  the  old  build- 
ings of  Portland  stone  ;  and  that  is,  that  parts  —  which  are  in 
shadow,  or  not  exposed  to  the  sun  —  are  either  blackened  or 
(as  is  invariably  the  case  with  many  prominent  parts  of  each 
structure)  jet-black,  and  of  a  solid  color.  Casual  examination 
would  suggest  soot,  or  the  results  of  fog  and  smoke  ;  but  chemi- 
cal analysis  shows  it  to  be  a  sort  of  fungi,  or  deposit  of  an  ani- 
mal nature,  —  the  shady  situation  and  porosity  of  the  stone, 
aided  by  the  moist  atmosphere,  being  favorable  to  its  growth. 
Imagine,  then,  a  large-  structure,  of  (lothic  architecture,  black- 
find  in  entire  sections,  but  mostly  white.  Picture  to  your  mind 
a  large  front  end,  with  two  square  towers,  projecting  but  little 


132  ENGLAND. 

from  the  principal  front,  and  each  ending  with  four  turrets,  not 
of  great  height,  —  then  a  side-wall  broken  by  buttresses  and 
transept.  —  and  you  have  the  exterior  of  Westminster  Abbey. 
Next,  think  of  a  good-sized  Gothic  church,  of  the  same  stone, 
with  a  square  tower  at  the  front  end,  and  this  building  set  at 
right  angles  to  the  great  abbey,  —  the  rear  end  of  the  former  not 
far  from  the  rear  end  of  the  abbey.  Picture  further  to  yourself 
a  surrounding  iron  fence,  and  a  burial-ground,  with  a  graded, 
gravelly  surface,  containing  many  slabs.  Combine  these  pictures 
in  one,  and  you  have  St.  Margaret's,  Westminster,  the  rectorship 
of  which  is  in  the  hands  of  the  celebrated  F.  W.  Farrar,  D.  D., 
who  is  also  canon  of  the  abbey. 

The  interior  of  the  abbey  is  rather  dark  and  sombre.  Its 
windows  are  of  stained  glass,  most  of  which  is  modern.  The 
columns  and  arches,  the  groined  ceiling,  and  all  the  interior 
finish  is  of  a  dark  gray  limestone,  of  dirty  soapstone  color.  The 
moulding  is  very  rich.  On  the  whole  it  has  a  narrow  look,  is 
very  high  in  effect  in  the  nave,  and  has  elaborate  altar  and 
screen  work.  There  are  no  pews,  of  course,  but  enough  flag- 
bottom  chairs  to  cover  the  floor  of  the  nave.  From  morning  to 
night  visitors  are  in  this  venerable  place,  —  hundreds  in  a  day, 
coming  from  all  parts  of  the  civilized  world.  This  is  true  of  St. 
Paul's,  and  of  every  cathedral.  The  task  would  be  endless  to 
describe  the  monuments.  The  abbey  floor  is  made  of  monu- 
mental slabs,  and  on  many  of  them  are  the  stories  of  mortals 
whose  dust  is  beneath.  On  columns  and  walls  are  mural  tablets 
and  monumental  marbles.  Benedict  Arnold,  true  to  English 
interests,  but  untrue  to  American ;  and  John  Wesley,  faithful  to 
the  interests  of  humanity  and  God,  but  uncompromising  towards 
formality,  oppression,  and  sin,  —  have  commemorative  tablets, 
almost  near  enough  to  touch  each  other.  It  pleased  us  Ameri- 
cans to  see  Arnold's  near  the  floor  and  Wesley's  on  the  wall,  — 
higher,  as  his  spirit  always  was,  and  probably  now  is. 

Here  is  the  Poet's  Corner,  where  repose  not  only  tablet  and 
stone,  but  the  precious  dust  itself  of  Samuel  Johnson,  David 
Garrick,  Dr.  Barrow,  and  other  notables  ;  and  now  a  bust  of  our 
own  Longfellow.  How  subdued  the  voice  and  tread  of  visitor 
and  verger  !  What  propriety  every  moment  and  everywhere  ! 
The  threshold  crossed,  the  hurrying  world  is  left  behind.  The 
hum  of  industry,  the  subdued  noise  of  carriages  and  commer- 
cial life  steal. in,  but  the  sound,  like  the  listeners,  is  toned  into 
accord  with  the  place.  The  dead  control  the  living.  The 
influence  of  the  venerable  pile  is  potent.     That  "  all  who  live 


LONDON.  133 

must  die,  passing  through  nature  to  eternity,"  is  here  fully  ap- 
parent. Dean  Stanley  and  Canon  Farrar  are  not  more  eloquent 
than  Isaac  Barrow.  Samuel  Johnson,  with  his  ponderous  pro- 
cession of  words,  and  Dickens,  his  very  opposite,  though  dead, 
yet  speak.  Milton,  through  his  elevated  bust,  —  though  a  pa- 
raded advertisement  of  the  egotist  who  "  caused  it  to  be  erected 
here," — looks  down  upon  a  semi-barbaric  effigy  five  hundred 
years  old.  Handel,  too,  is  there.  They  all,  a  glorious  com- 
pany,—  in  life  divided,  but  in  death  associated,  —  make  the 
place  hallowed. 

How  well,  while  thus  in  meditative  mood,  is  one  able  to  real- 
ize, and  as  he  nowhere  else  can,  that  "  in  the  midst  of  life  we 
are  in  death."  The  impression  thus  made  can  never  be  effaced, 
for,  with  the  faithful  exactness  of  a  photographic  process,  it  is 
indelibly  stamped  on  the  spirit  itself. 

While  these  pages  were  passing  through  the  press,  the  dearest 
and  best  earthly  friend  of  one  of  the  authors  passed  on  to  "  the 
city  which  hath  foundations,"  that  "  house  of  God  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens."  By  a  strange  and  inter- 
esting coincidence,  while  this  particular  chapter  was  under 
consideration,  there  was  found  in  her  small  pocket-book  the 
appropriate  poetic  thought  of  another,  which  we  here  append  :  — 

I  do  not  know  what  sea  shall  bathe 

My  tired  and  earth-worn  feet, 
When  they  lay  life's  soiled  sandals  off, 

And  enter  rest  complete  ; 
But  I  shall  call  that  still  sea,  Peace ! 

And  in  its  limpid  tide 
Lave  all  the  dust  of  travel  off, 

And  find  me  purified  ! 

I  do  not  know  what  sounds  shall  greet 

My  soul's  awakening  sense, 
Nor  what  new  sights  await  me  when 

I  take  my  journey  hence. 
Though  folded  be  my  earthly  tent, 

My  soul  hath  where  to  stay, 
And  she  shall  not  be  shelterless 

One  moment  of  the  way  ! 

And  I  fear  no  bewilderment, 

No  shock  of  sudden  change  ; 
To  journey  to  one's  home  and  friends 

Will  surely  not  seem  strange! 
And  peace  is  on  the  waiting  sea, 

And  rest  is  on  its  shore ; 
And  furt her  on  —  I  dare  not  dream 

Of  all  that  lies  in  store. 


134  ENGLAND. 

How  sweet  and  divine  the  influence,  —  in  what  sublime 
accord  with  our  theme  and  place  ! 

To  her  dear  memory,  who  —  with  a  companion-mother  yet 
in  the  flesh  —  of  all  friends  most  encouraged  our  proposed 
adventure  ;  who  more  deeply  and  sincerely  than  any  other  mor- 
tals were  solicitous  for  our  safety  and  happiness  while  wandering 
among  strangers  and  historic  shadows  in  foreign  lands  ;  and  who 
welcomed  us  with  inexpressible  gratitude  on  our  return,  —  to 
them  both,  with  filial  affection,  we  inscribe  this  chapter ;  and 
among  the  world's  great  we  erect  shrine  and  monument  to  our 
own  revered  dead,  —  greater,  to  our  hearts,  than  the  monarchs 
or  heroes  who  beneath  cathedral  pavements  sleep. 

We  return  to  the  material  aspect  of  the  abbey  and  speak  of 
its  history.  How  full  of  incident !  How  long  the  catalogue  of 
devotees  and  prelates  and  crusaders,  of  monks  and  nuns,  of  he- 
roes both  of  the  very  old  time  and  of  the  new. 

The  abbey  was  founded  near  the  close  of  the  seventh  cen- 
tury, and  was  in  full  operation  by  the  middle  of  the  eighth.  The 
larger  portion  of  the  present  structure  was  completed  in  the 
thirteenth  century.  It  is  a  coincidence  that  the  years  since  its 
completion,  and  its  length  in  feet,  exclusive  of  the  Henry  VII. 
chapel,  are  equal,  —  511.  The  extreme  breadth  at  transepts  is 
203  feet ;  and  the  height  of  the  nave,  from  the  pavement  to  the 
highest  point  of  the  groined  arch,  is  102  feet.  The  towers  are 
225  feet  to  top  of  the  pinnacles.  This  west  front,  added  by  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  though  of  good  general  outline,  is  faulty  in 
architectural  detail.  English  sovereigns,  from  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor to  Queen  Victoria,  have  all  been  crowned  here,  and  the 
coronation  chair,  a  clumsy,  square  structure  of  wood,  is  shown 
the  visitor.  Monuments  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  of  Mary  Stuart 
—  who  died  respectively  March  24,  1603,  and  December  28, 
1684  —  are  in  the  south  aisle.  The  latter,  as  well  as  Mary  Tudor, 
is  buried  in  the  Henry  VII.  chapel,  a  most  elegant  example  of 
perpendicular  Gothic  architecture,  at  the  choir  end  of  the  abbey. 
We  left  the  place  after  a  cursory- examination,  in  expectation  of 
repetitions  of  the  visit. 

The  Houses  of  Parliament,  only  a  few  hundred  feet  away,  are 
built  of  a  light-brown  sandstone,  with  an  elaborate  finish  in 
every  part.  As  we  observed  the  disintegration  already  at  work, 
we  could  but  deplore  the  fact  that  such  bad  counsel  obtained, 
when  the  structure  was  erected,  as  to  be  incredibly  lavish  in 
working  up  the  outside  finish  to  this  extraordinary  richness, 
while  unwilling  to  reduce  the  decoration,  so  as  to  expend  the 


LONDON.  135 

labor  on  a  more  durable  stone,  even  at  the  expense  of  some 
extravagance  of  detail.  Attempts  at  minute  description  cannot 
be  expected  here.  The  Thames  washes  the  terrace  on  the  rear. 
The  end  with  the  great  bell-tower,  the  most  elegant  in  the  world, 
is  but  a  few  feet  from  the  main  avenue,  and  almost  at  the  Lon- 
don end  of  Westminster  Bridge.  The  premises  are  enclosed 
by  a  grand,  cast-iron  fence.  These  grounds,  though  limited,  are 
ample  ;  and  about  this  end,  and  its  principal  front,  are  thor- 
oughfares of  the  best  parts  of  the  great  city.  The  structure 
covers  eight  acres,  and  contains  eleven  hundred  apartments. 
There  are  a  hundred  staircases,  and  two  miles  of  corridors. 
The  corner-stone  was  laid  April  27,  1840,  and  the  total  cost  of 
the  edifice,  up  to  1874,  was  $20,000,000.  The  principal  rooms 
for  the  House  6f  Lords  and  House  of  Commons,  compared  to 
the  size  of  the  building,  are  much  too  small.  The  former  is  100 
feet  long,  45  feet  only  in  width  and  height,  was  opened  for  use 
in  1847,  and  is  the  most  gorgeous  legislative  hall  in  the  world. 
The  latter  is  60  feet  long,  and  55  feet  wide  and  high.  While 
elaborate  in  finish,  it  is  not,  of  course,  the  equal  of  its  com- 
panion. The  windows  of  both,  and  in  fact  through  the  entire 
building,  are  of  exquisitely  stained  glass.  The  Victoria  Tower, 
at  the  southwest  angle,  is  75  feet  square,  and  340  feet  high,  —  a 
magnificent  work  finished  in  1 85  7.  The  central  octagonal  tower, 
with  a  spire  above  it,  is  60  feet  diameter  and  300  feet  high.  The 
Clock  Tower,  at  the  end  towards  Westminster  Bridge,  at  an 
angle  of  the  building,  is  40  feet  square,  300  feet  high,  and  has 
four  dials  30  feet  diameter.  The  great  bell  on  which  the  hours 
are  struck  is  called  Great  Stephen.  It  was  cast  in  1858,  and 
weighs  over  eight  tons,  taking  the  place  of  a  broken  one  which 
was  called  Big  Ben  of  Westminster.  There  is  a  chime  of  bells 
on  which  the  quarter  and  half  hours  are  chimed.  As  may  be 
imagined,  frescoes  and  statuary  abound.  There  is  no  part  of 
the  exterior  of  the  structure  where  exuberance  of  carving  is  not 
to  be  found,  —  all  of  course  in  the  same  stone  of  which  the 
building  is  composed. 

A  minute's  walk  from  the  front  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament, 
and  we  are  at  the  London  end  of  Westminster  Bridge,  looking 
over  the  turbid  waters  of  England's  celebrated  river.  How 
much  is  implied  when  one  speaks  of  the  River  Thames  !  John 
Denhan,  like  all  Londoners,  was  in  love  with  it,  and  said  :  — 

Thames,  the  most  loved  of  all  the  Ocean's  sons 
By  his  old  sire,  to  hi>  embraces  runs, — 
Hasting  to  pay  his  tribute  to  the  sea, 
Like  mortal  life  to  meet  eternity. 


136  ENGLAND. 

The  river  is  about  fifteen  hundred  feet  wide,  and  runs  with 
quite  a  current  toward  the  sea.  The  muddy  water  rises  and 
falls  twelve  or  more  feet  with  the  tide.  Standing  at  our  right  are 
the  Parliament  Houses,  with  a  vast  length  of  nine  hundred  feet, 
their  grounds  adjoining  the  bridge.  We  pass  from  the  bridge 
to  the  left,  and  along  the  river.  Bounding  it  is  the  Victoria 
Embankment,  built  of  finely  hammered  granite,  and  finished 
with  a  moulded  parapet.  At  proper  intervals  are  pedestals,  sur- 
mounted by  ornamental  and  appropriate  lamp-posts.  At  especial 
points  are  stone  stairways  down  to  the  floating  rafts  and  steamer 
landings.  This  embankment  extends  between  Westminster  and 
Blackfriars  Bridges,  and  is  a  mile  long.  It  was  finished  in  1870, 
at  a  cost  of  $10,000,000.  It  is  one  hundred  feet  wide  on  the 
roadway,  and  follows  the  curving  line  of  the  river.  Next  the 
sea-wall  is  a  sidewalk  of  liberal  width,  with  shade-trees.  Out- 
side of  this,  and  about  sixty  feet  wide,  is  the  macadamized 
roadway.  Beyond,  and  extending  to  the  fence  lines,  is  another 
sidewalk  ;  and  bordering  this  are  small  public  squares  fronting 
important  buildings.  Prominent  among  these  is  Somerset 
House,  with  its  three  thousand  windows  and  one  thousand 
rooms.  From  Blackfriars  Bridge  the  river  is  bordered  by  build- 
ings, wooden  landings,  and  small  docks,  —  continuing  thus  for 
a  mile  or  more,  to  the  Tower  of  London. 

The  high  buildings  are  built  of  brick,  in  a  common  and  cheap 
warehouse  style,  hardly  in  keeping  with  this  important  part  of 
the  city.  London  Bridge  terminates  among  these ;  but  it  is 
elevated,  so  that  its  entrance  is  above  the  waterside  buildings, 
and  has  a  spacious  approach,  as  its  importance  demands.  At 
Blackfriars  Bridge  —  the  end  of  the  Victoria  Embankment  — 
the  road  diverges  to  the  left  somewhat,  and  runs  up  towards  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral,  which  is  on  slightly  elevated  ground,  perhaps 
a  half-mile  away.  It  is  about  two  thirds  of  the  way  between 
Blackfriars  and  London  Bridge,  and  not  far  from  an  eighth  of  a 
mile  from  the  river.  The  triangle  thus  formed  is  filled  with 
warehouses.  The  streets  are  well  paved,  clean,  and  full  of  busi- 
ness. The  avenues  are  not  very  wide  ;  some  of  them  are  quite 
crooked  ;  and  there  are  many  lanes  and  alleys,  or  short-cuts 
across-lots. 

Parts  of  New  York,  as,  for  instance,  about  Williams  and  Fulton 
streets,  —  or  even  Boston,  in  North  Street,  —  well  represent  the 
vicinity  of  London  Bridge,  Paul's  and  Wharf  avenues.  We  have 
now  traversed  the  embankment  for  two  and  a  half  miles,  and  begin 
our  survey  of  the  opposite  side.     Beginning  at  the   Lambeth 


LONDON.  137 

end  of  Westminster  Bridge,  we  have  another  elegant  river-wall, 
—  the  southern  one,  or  Albert  Embankment,  —  built  like  the 
other,  and  at  a  cost  of  $5,500,000.  It  extends  from  West- 
minster Bridge  nearly  to  Vauxhall  Bridge  to  the  right,  and 
opposite  the  Houses  of  Parliament.  The  new  St.  Thomas  Hos- 
pital buildings,  four  or  five  in  number,  are  of  brick  with  granite 
dressings,  facing  the  embankment,  and  of  course  the  Parliament 
Houses  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  Above  this  is  the  Chel- 
sea Embankment,  opened  in  1874.  It  continues  on  to  the  old 
Battersea  Bridge,  the  whole  presenting  a  massive  stone  wall. 
Beyond  it,  back  from  the  river  at  this  end,  is  a  series  of  pleasure 
grounds,  Lambeth  Place,  etc.  This  is  the  old  Episcopal  seat  of 
the  Church,  and  the  usual  residence  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury. It  is  noted  as  being  the  place  of  ecclesiastical  councils 
for  many  centuries. 

From  the  bridge  down  to  the  left  opposite  the  Victoria 
Embankment,  and  for  the  entire  distance  opposite  that  part  of 
the  city,  are  wharves,  docks,  storehouses,  such  as  may  be  found 
along  the  shore  of  any  commercial  place ;  but  the  shipping 
proper  lies  farther  down  the  river,  below  London  bridge.  There 
are  the  docks,  built  at  enormous  cost,  and  extending  for  miles 
below  the  Tower,  which  is  not  far  from  a  mile  below  St.  Paul's. 
On  the  opposite  side  is  the  city  of  Southwark,  containing  a 
population  of  200,000.  The  shore  is  lined  with  quays,  and  has 
an  unfinished  appearance.  The  tide  runs  very  low,  and  often 
the  mud  is  exposed  to  view  against  the  buildings  on  both  sides 
of  the  river,  especially  on  the  London  side  in  the  vicinity  of 
Blackfriars. 

The  river  is  crossed  by  many  fine  bridges  ;  among  them  are 
London,  Southwark,  Blackfriars,  Waterloo,  Hungerford,  West- 
minster, Vauxhall,  and  Chelsea,  besides  two  or  three  large  ones 
for  the  railroads.  London  and  Waterloo  bridges  are  of  stone, 
and  are  respectively  928  feet  and  1,242  feet  long,  and  53 
feet  and  42  feet  wide.  The  first  has  five  arches,  and  the  other 
nine.  Built  in  1831  and  181 7,  they  cost  $10,000,000  and 
$5,750,000,  respectively.  Southwark,  Blackfriars,  Westminster, 
and  Vauxhall  are  iron  bridges.  Hungerford  is  a  suspension 
bridge,  and  Chelsea  is  wooden.  Blackfriars  and  Westminster 
are  elegant  structures,  somewhat  recently  built. 

Steamers  in  great  numbers  ply  between  London  and  West- 
minster bridges,  and  to  Chelsea  and  points  beyond.  So 
frequent  are  these  in  their  passages  up  and  down  the  river, 
that  the  passenger  makes   no   especial   calculation   as  regards 


138  ENGLAND. 

time,  but  goes  to  the  nearest  floating-station,  and  need  not  wait 
long  lor  a  conveyance.  This  is  a  comfortable  method  of  travel, 
of  which  hundreds  of  thousands  daily  avail  themselves.  It  has 
been  aptly  called  the  Silent  Highway,  for,  in  spite  of  the  traffic 
on  the  shores,  there  is  a  peculiar  quiet  on  the  river. 

We  can  hardly  think  of  a  subject  we  should  be  more  pleased 
to  write  about,  and  there  are  few  by  which  our  readers  would  be 
more  entertained,  than  these  old  bridges  in  London.  Only  one  of 
them  can  have  attention,  and  that  shall  be  London  Bridge,  more 
especially  the  old  one.  A  London  Bridge  is  mentioned  in  a 
charter  of  William  the  Conqueror,  granted  to  the  monks  of 
Westminster  Abbey  in  1067  ;  but  the  earliest  historical  account 
of  any  is  that  made  by  the  old  chroniclers  of  its  destruction,  Nov. 
16,  1091,  "on  which  day  a  furious  southeast  wind  threw  down 
six  hundred  private  houses  in  the  city,  besides  several  churches  ; 
and  the  tide  in  the  river  came  rushing  up  with  a  violence  that 
swept  the  bridge  entirely  away." 

Next,  in  1097,  we  learn  from  a  Saxon  chronicle,  the  credit 
of  rebuilding  it  is  given  to  King  Rufus.  It  was  of  wood,  and 
destroyed  in  1136,  by  a  fire  which  "laid  the  city  in  waste  from 
St.  Paul's  to  Aldgate."  The  historian  Stow  speaks  of  it  as  having 
been  wholly  rebuilt  in  1163  by  Peter  Colechurch,  priest  and 
chaplain. 

The  first  London  Bridge  of  stone  was  begun  in  1 173,  or  710 
years  ago,  and  finished  in  1209.  Stow  says,  "the  new  stone 
bridge  was  founded  somewhat  to  the  west  of  the  old  timber 
one."  The  new  one  had  twenty  arches.  The  road  was  926 
feet  long  and  40  feet  wide  between  the  parapets,  —  surely  a 
magnificent  structure  to  be  erected  six  hundred  years  before 
the  American  Revolution.  This  great  thoroughfare  was  des- 
tined to  be  despoiled  of  its  ample  dimensions,  for,  as  soon 
as  1280,  mention  is  made,  on  the  pay-roll  of  the  ninth  year  of 
Edward  L,  of  "innumerable  people  dwelling  upon  the  bridge." 
In  course  of  time  it  was  resolved  into  a  complete  street,  build- 
ings having  been  built  on  each  side,  partly  on  the  bridge  and 
partly  projecting  over  the  river,  in  solid  line,  with  the  exception 
of  three  openings  on  each  side,  at  unequal  distances,  from  which 
might  be  obtained  views  up  and  down  the  river.  Strange  to 
say,  on  the  east  side,  over  the  tenth  pier,  was  a  fine  Gothic 
chapel,  dedicated  to  Thomas  a  Becket.  It  was  thirty  feet  in 
front  on  the  bridge,  and  consisted  of  a  crypt,  and  a  chapel 
above,  and  was  used  for  divine  services  down  to  the  Refor- 
mation. 


LONDON.  139 

Near  the  Southwark  end  of  the  bridge,  on  the  eleventh 
pier,  was  a  tower,  which  Stow  tells  us  was  begun  in  1426. 
On  the  top  of  this  tower  the  heads  of  persons  who  had  been 
executed  were  "  stuck  up  for  public  gaze."  When  it  was 
removed  in  1577,  the  exposed  heads  were  taken  to  the  South- 
wark end  of  the  bridge,  and  the  gate  there  received  the  name 
of  Traitor's  Gate. 

When  William  Wallace  resisted  Edward  I.,  his  heart  was 
plucked  out,  and  his  head  placed  aloft  on  this  old  tower.  This 
was  in  1305.  There  was  displayed,  in  1408,  the  head  of  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  the  father  of  the  gallant  Hotspur. 
There  also  were  placed  here,  in  1535,  the  heads  of  Fisher,  Bishop 
of  Rochester,  and  his  friend  Sir  Thomas  More.  That  of  the 
former  was  first  shown  to  Queen  Anne  Boleyn,  and  the  next 
day  "  parboiled  and  placed  upon  the  pole."     It  is  related  :  — 

In  spite  of  the  parboiling,  it  grew  fresher  and  fresher,  so  that 
in  his  lifetime  he  never  looked  so  well,  for  his  cheeks  being  beauti- 
fied with  a  comely  red,  the  face  looked  as  though  it  had  beholden 
the  people  passing  by,  and  would  have  spoken  to  them;  wherefore 
the  people  coming  daily  to  see  the  strange  sight,  the  passage,  even 
the  bridge,  was  so  stopped  with  their  going  and  coming,  that  almost 
neither  cart  nor  horse  could  pass  ;  therefore  at  the  end  of  fourteen 
days  the  executioner  was  commanded  to  throw  down  the  head  in 
the  night  time  into  the  river  of  Thames,  and  in  place  thereof  was  set 
the  head  of  the  most  blessed  and  constant  martyr,  Sir  Thomas 
More,  his  companion  in  all  his  troubles. 

The  German  traveller  Hentuner,  who  was  here  in  1597,  re- 
cords, that  he  saw  above  thirty  heads  at  one  time  ;  and  some  old 
prints  of  the  tower  show  its  roof  nearly  covered  by  spiked  skulls. 

The  bridge  remained  till  the  year  1832  when  the  present 
structure  was  built.  During  the  long  interval  it  was  often  en- 
dangered by  fire,  —  once  in  121 2,  as  Stow  relates  :  — 

A  great  fire  enveloped  the  church  of  St.  Mary  Overy's,  which  ex- 
tended to  the  bridge,  and,  sweeping  into  it,  struck  a  vast  crowd  of 
people  who  were  collected  upon  it,  who  were  hemmed  in  thus  be- 
tween two  advancing  masses  of  flame,  and  thus  perished  miserably 
above  3,000  persons,  whose  bodies  were  found  in  part  or  half 
burned,  beside  those  that  were  wholly  burned  to  ashes  and  could 
not  be  found. 

In  1 281  "  five  of  the  arches  were  carried  away  by  ice,  and  a 
swell  in  the  river,  succeeding  a  severe  snow-storm   and  great 

frost."     Stow  says  :  — 


140  ENGLAND. 

In  1437,  at  noon  of  January,  14th,  the  great  stone  gate,  with  the 
tower  upon  it  next  to  Southwark,  fell  down,  ami  two  of  the  farthest 
arches  of  the  same  bridge,  yet  no  men  perished  in  body,  which  was 
a  great  work  of  I 

We  might  continue  the  record  of  fires  and  disasters,  of  mur- 
ders on  the  bridge  and  in  the  houses,  as  well  as  of  tumults  and 
other  strange  proceedings. 

How  many  remarkable  pageants  have  here  taken  place.  In 
1381,  on  the  13th  of  June,  the  celebrated  Wat  Tyler  forced  his 
way  over  the  bridge  and  into  the  city,  in  spite  of  the  mayor, 
Sir  William  Walworth,  and  his  military  and  police,  and  the  "  raised 
draw  fastened  up  with  a  mighty  iron  chain  to  prevent  the  entry." 

On  the  29th  of  August,  1392,  King  Richard  II.  passed  over 
it.  having  come  in  joyous  procession  with  his  consort,  Queen 
Anne,  by  whose  mediation  he  had  just  become  reconciled  with 
the  people  of  London.     The  account  says  :  — 

Men,  women,  and  children,  in  order,  presented  him  with  two  fair 
white  steeds,  trapped  in  cloth  of  gold,  parted  with  red  and  white, 
hanged  full  of  silver  bells,  the  which  present  he  thankfully  received, 
and  afterwards  held  on  his  way  towards  Westminster. 

Over  it,  Feb.  21,  1432,  young  King  Henry  VI.  came,  and 
made  a  magnificent  entry  after  his  coronation  at  Paris. 

But  we  must  forbear.  Even  a  portion  of  remarkable  events, 
that  might  be  related,  would  more  than  fill  this  book. 

The  Thames,  as  before  mentioned,  has  been  aptly  termed  the 
Silent  Highway.  For  centuries  boating  and  ferriage  have  been 
important  here.  The  watermen,  as  they  were  called,  formed  a 
numerous  and  somewhat  influential  body.  In  our  day  the 
horse-railroad  companies  are  thought  to  be  powerful,  and 
Temple  Place,  narrow  Tremont  Street,  and  wide  Scollay 
Square  are  said  to  be  under  their  control.  The  railroad  wars  of 
our  day  {e.  g.,  between  the  Union  and  Charles  River  railways) 
only  remind  us  of  the  London  conflicts  of  eight  hundred  years 
ago.  Bridgemen  and  watermen  were  then  in  opposition,  as 
representatives  of  elevated  and  surface  railways  are  at  odds  now. 
Great  opposition  was  made  by  the  watermen  to  the  building 
of  bridges  over  the  Thames.  "Othello's  occupation,"  they 
thought,  would  be  gone,  and  that  was,  in  their  estimation, 
enough  to  condemn  the  project.  John  Taylor,  a  waterman, 
lauded  the  river  as  follows  :  — 

But  noble  Thames,  whilst  I  can  hold  a  pen 
I  will  divulge  thy  glory  unto  men; 
Thou  in  the  morning,  when  my  corn  is  scant, 
Before  the  evening  doth  supply  my  want. 


LONDON.  141 

Soon  came  a  new  trouble,  for  then,  as  now,  misfortunes  did 
not  come  singly.  Coaches  came  into  use,  and  coaches  and  a 
new  bridge  at  the  same  time  threatened  large  invasions  on  the 
realm  of  the  watermen,  and  Taylor  was  not  slow  to  complain  of 
this.  In  a  poem  entitled  "Thief,"  published  in  1622,  he 
says  :  — 

When  Queen  Elizabeth  came  to  the  crown 
A  coach  in  England  was  then  scarcely  known. 

He  could  tolerate  coaches  for  royalty,  but  their  use  by  com- 
mon people  was  more  than  he  could  well  endure,  and  so  he 
continues  in  the  following  strain  :  — 

'T  is  not  fit  that 
Fulsome  madams,  and  new  scurvey  squires, 
Should  jolt  the  streets  at  pomp,  at  their  desires, 
Like  great  triumphant  Tamberlaines  each  day, 
Drawn  with  pampered  jades  of  Belgia, 
That  almost  all  the  streets  are  choked  outright, 
Where  men  can  hardly  pass,  from  morn  till  night, 
While  Watermen  want  work. 

And  he  tried  his  hand  at  prose  as  follows  :  — 

This  infernal  swarm  of  trade  spillars  [coaches]  have  so  overrun 
the  land,  that  we  can  get  no  living  upon  the  water ;  for  I  dare  truly 
affirm  that  every  day  in  any  term,  especially  if  the  court  be  at 
Whitehall,  they  do  rob  us  of  our  livings,  and  carry  five  hundred 
and  sixty  fares  daily  from  us. 

And  he  grows  earnest,  and  means  business,  when  he  again 
talks  as  follows  :  — 

I  pray  you  look  into  the  streets,  and  the  chambers  or  lodgings 
in  Fleet  Street  or  the  Strand,  how  they  are  pestered  with  them 
[coaches],  especially  after  a  mask,  or  a  play  at  court,  where  even 
the  very  earth  quakes  and  trembles,  the  casements  shatter,  tatter, 
and  clatter,  and  such  a  confused  noise  is  made,  so  that  a  man  can 
neither  sleep,  speak,  hear,  write,  or  eat  his  dinner  or  supper  quiet 
of  them. 

Alas  for  poor  John  Taylor,  and  the  occupation  of  his  asso- 
ciates, who  longed  and  sighed  for  the  good  old  times  and 
customs  of  the  fathers,  and  deplored  these  new-fangled 
notions  ! 

The  winter  of  1684-5  was  very  severe ;  and  Sir  John  Evelyn, 
in  his  celebrated  Diary,  records  an  unusual  spectacle  on  the 
famous  river.     His  statement  is  as  follows  :  — 


142  ENGLAND. 

Jan.  9th  I  went  crosse  the  Thames  on  the  ice,  now  become  so 
thick  as  to  beare  not  onely  streetes  and  booths,  in  which  they 
roasted  meate,  and  had  divers  shops  of  wares,  quite  acrosse  as  in 
toune,  hut  coaches,  carts,  and  horses  passed  over.  So  I  went 
from  Westminster  Stayres  to  Lambeth  and  dined  with  the  Arch- 
bishop. .  .  .  f 6th.  The  Thames  was  filled  with  people  and  tents, 
selling  all  sorts  of  wares  as  in  the  city.  .  .  .  24th.  The  frost  con- 
tinuing, more  and  more  severe,  the  Thames  before  London  was 
still  planted  with  booths  in  formal  streetes,  all  sorts  of  trades  and 
shops  furnished  and  full  of  commodities,  even  to  a  printing  presse. 
where  the  people  and  ladys  tooke  a  fancey  to  have  their  names 
printed  and  the  day  and  yeare  set  down  when  printed  on  the 
Thames  ;  this  humour  took  so  universally,  that  t  'was  estimated  the 
printer  gained  £5  a  day,  for  printing  a  iine  onely,  at  six  pence  a 
name,  besides  what  he  got  by  ballads,  &c.  Coaches  plied  from 
Westminster  to  the  Temple,  and  from  several  other  stayres  to  and 
fro,  as  in  the  streets,  sleds,  sliding  with  skeets,  a  bull-baiting,  horse 
and  coach  races,  puppet  plays  and  interludes,  cooks,  tippling,  and 
other  lewed  places.  So  it  seemed  to  be  a  backanalian  triumph,  or 
carnival  on  the  water,  whilst  it  was  a  severe  judgement  on  the  land, 
the  trees  not  only  splitting  as  if  by  lightening  struck,  but  men  and 
cattle  perishing  in  divers  places,  and  the  very  seas  lock'd  up  with 
ice  that  no  vessels  could  stir  out  or  come  in.  .  .  .  Feb.  5th.  It 
began  to  thaw  but  froze  again.  My  coach  crossed  from  Lambeth  to 
the  Horse  ferry  at  Milbank,  Westminster.  The  booths  were 
almost  all  taken  downe,  but  there  was  first  a  map  or  Landskip  cut 
in  copper,  representing  all  the  manner  of  the  camp  and  the  several 
actions  and  pastimes  thereon,  in  memory  of  so  signal  frost.  .  .  . 
Jan.  10th.  After  eight  weekes  missing  the  foraine  posts,  there 
came  abundance  of  intelligence  from  abroad. 

We  now  take  our  leave  of  the  Thames.  Often  shall  we  sail 
over  it  during  our  stay.  It  is  a  highway  of  nations  like  the 
ocean  itself.  Ideal  is  the  Rhine  ;  matter  of  fact  is  the  Thames  ; 
but  it  is  greater  than  the  Amazon  in  the  best  kind  of  greatness. 

We  have  employed  much  space  in  describing  the  West  End  of 
London  —  the  Abbey,  Parliament  Houses,  the  River.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  these  were  seen  within  the  first  few  hours  after 
our  arrival.  At  6  p.  M.  of  the  same  day,  Sunday,  we  continue 
our  walk  from  the  river  embankment,  and  up  to  St.  Paul's. 
This  edifice  stands  on  slightly  elevated  ground,  and  being  very 
large,  with  its  lofty  dome,  is  of  course  readily  seen  from  any 
point  along  the  river  for  some  miles  away.  It  is  about  a  mile 
from  Westminster  to  the  cathedral.  The  land  rises  but  slightly, 
but  the  small  elevation  was  a  fact  worthy  of  note  ;  and  so  in 
Pannier  Alley,  a  narrow  passage  some  six  or  eight  feet  wide, 
not    far    from  the   cathedral,  is  a   stone   tablet,  which   has  a 


LONDON.  143 

rude  carving   representing   a  naked  boy  sitting  on  a  pannier, 
and  on  the  lower  part  or  pedestal  is  the  following :  — 

When  y'v  sovght 

THE    ClTTY    ROVND 

Yet  still  this  is 
The  highest  Grovnd 

avgvst  the  27 

1688. 

St.  Paul's  is  located  at  a  business  centre.  In  front  of  its  prin- 
cipal end  is  a  square,  out  of  which  runs  Fleet  Street,  from  Lud- 
gate  Hill.  This  is  one  of  the  busy  thoroughfares  of  the  city. 
About  the  cathedral,  fenced  in  with  an  open  iron  fence  not 
much  unlike  that  of  Boston  Common,  is  the  burial-ground, 
enclosing  all  of  it  but  the  Fleet  Street  end  ;  and  the  space  is  not 
more  than  fifty  feet  from  the  fence  to  the  building.  The  whole  is 
grassed  over,  and  has  gravestones  scattered  promiscuously  about. 
On  either  side,  and  across  the  rear  end,  is  a  street,  with  a  roadway 
and  one  sidewalk,  with  stores  bordering  it.  This  space  is  of 
the  same  width  as  the  burial  part  of  the  grounds,  and  the  entire 
place  has  for  centuries  been  known  as  Paul's  Churchyard ;  for 
such  it  was  before  the  great  fire  of  1666.  For  many  years  it 
was  celebrated  for  its  second-hand  bookstores.  Newgate  Street, 
Cheapside,  and  other  avenues  of  trade  are  at  the  left  and  rear, 
making  the  situation  of  the  cathedral  very  much  exposed. 

In  general  the  buildings  of  London  are  modern,  the  streets 
are  clean,  and  there  is  no  look  of  great  antiquity  or  a  very 
cramped  condition.  A  scene  is  presented  to  view  very  unlike 
what  one  imagines  when  he  hears  of  Old  London  ;  for  so 
much  has  been  said  of  its  antiquities,  great  age,  its  fogs 
and  smoke,  that  most  people  entertain  ideas  which  are  far 
from  the  truth.  Speaking  of  this,  it  may  well  be  said,  once 
for  all,  that  no  great  thoroughfare  of  London  is  more  crowded 
than  Broadway,  New  York  ;  and  none  is  narrower,  unless  we 
except  Cheapside,  by  Bow  Church  ;  and  that  is  no  worse  than 
our  Washington- Street,  between  Court  and  Milk.  Just  now  we 
can  think  of  no  other  street  more  resembling  Cheapside,  as  re- 
gards width,  amount  of  travel,  and  general  variety  and  style  of 
its  buildings. 

It  must  be  remembered  that,  while  London  has  a  history  of 
two  thousand  years,  yet  most  of  it  has  been  many  times  rebuilt, 
and  its  streets  have  been  widened.  Boston  has  a  history  only 
one  tenth  as  long,  240  years,  yet  we  find  in  it  little  evidence 


144  ENGLAND. 

of  great  age.  London  has  however  notable  examples,  —  Guild 
Hall,  Temple  Church,  St.  Paul's,  and  fifty  churches  built  after 
the  great  fire  of  1666  ;  but  these  do  not  probably  look  older 
than  they  did  one  or  two  centuries  ago.  In  fact  they  do  not 
impress  one  as  being  of  a  remarkable  age  ;  and,  not  being  seen 
in  a  group,  the  city  as  a  whole  looks  modern. 

The  greatest  improvements  have  of  course  been  made  in  Old 
London  proper,  —  that  part  once  within  the  walls,  which,  com- 
pared to  the  present  London,  is  simply  as  original  Boston  is 
when  compared  to  itself  as  a  whole,  and  including  the  annexa- 
tions. London  is  indeed  vast  in  dimensions,  and  has  a  popula- 
tion of  3,266,987  ;  but  outside  of  Old  London  are  the  annexed 
places.  This  new  territory  is  built  principally  of  brick,  and  is  in 
comparatively  modern  style.  Land  having  been  cheap,  the  streets 
are  of  good  width  ;  and  since  the  territory  has  become  part  of 
London,  it  is  paved,  lighted,  and  well  cared  for.  So  let  no  one 
imagine  for  this,  the  world's  metropolis,  a  great  over-crowded 
city  different  from  Boston  or  New  York, — avast  labyrinth  of 
narrow  and  crooked  streets,  in  which  are  evidences  of  bad  condi- 
tions, the  results  of  life  in  a  dark  age,  —  for  nothing  of  the  kind  is 
true.  In  some  portions,  e.  g.  not  far  from  Covent  Garden  Market, 
there  are  streets  where  very  poor  people  reside,  and  are  crowded, 
but  not  in  very  old  and  peculiar  buildings.  In  no  way  are  the 
conditions  worse  than  in  sections  of  New  York  and  Boston. 
London  is  a  very  large  and  very  fine  city,  modern  in  general 
appearance. 

For  five  months  in  the  year,  from  May  1  to  October  1,  the 
climate  is  not  very  different  from  our  own,  though  it  has  a 
slightly  lower  temperature,  and  a  moister  atmosphere.  It  rains 
with  great  ease,  unlooked-for  showers  are  imminent,  and  an 
umbrella  accompanies  a  man  almost  as  often  as  his  hat.  During 
the  remaining  portion  of  the  year  fog  is  frequent,  and,  as  the 
heavy  atmosphere  prevents  smoke  from  passing  off,  the  difficul- 
ties are  intensified.  At  any  time  in  the  four  winter  months  this 
is  a  serious  trouble. 

We  have  wandered  from  our  especial  subject  to  speak  of  these 
matters,  as  we  are  sure  that  most  people  entertain  wrong  opin- 
ions concerning  them  ;  but  now  we  go  back  to  the  cathedral. 

St.  Paul's  is  built  of  white  stone,  in  general  appearance  like 
white  marble.  Parts  of  it  are  as  white  as  ever,  and  kept  clean  by 
sun  and  storm  ;  other  parts  are,  black  as  soot.  This  edifice  was 
built  to  take  the  place  of  Old  St.  Paul's,  which  was  destroyed  in 
the  great  fire  of  1666.     The  commission  for  the  new  building 


LONDON.  145 

was  given  under  the  great  seal,  Nov.  12,  1673.  The  first  stone 
was  laid  with  imposing  ceremonies  under  the  administration  of 
Bishop  Henry  Compton,  by  the  architect  Sir  Christopher  Wren, 
assisted  by  his  master-mason,  Thomas  Strong.  An  interesting 
fact  is  related  in  connection  with  the  beginning  of  an  important 
part  of  the  structure,  and  the  relation  is  as  follows  :  — 

Sometime  during  the  early  part  of  its  works,  when  Sir  Christo- 
pher was  arranging  and  setting  out  the  dimensions  of  the  great 
cupola,  an  incident  occurred  which  some  superstitious  observers 
regarded  as  a  lucky  omen.  The  architect  had  ordered  a  work- 
man to  bring  to  him  a  flat  stone,  to  use  as  a  station  ;  which,  when 
brought,  was  found  to  be  a  fragment  of  a  tombstone,  containing  the 
only  remaining  word  of  an  inscription  in  capital  letters  :  Resur- 
GAM.     ("  I  shall  rise  again.") 

It  is  possible  that  this  incident  suggested  to  the  sculptor, 
Colley  Cibber,  the  emblem  —  a  phoenix  in  its  fiery  nest  —  over 
the  south  portico,  and  inscribed  with  the  same  word.  A  kin- 
dred thought  is,  that  the  rising  again  of  the  cathedral  and  the 
city  from  their  ashes  was  the  hint  to  the  artist,  and  that  he 
availed  himself  of  the  emblem  and  word  as  grandly  suggestive. 
The  work  was  continued  so  that  "April  1,  1685,  the  walls  of 
the  choir,  with  its  aisles,  being  170  feet  long  and  121  feet  broad, 
with  the  stupendous  arched  vaults  below  the  pavement,  were 
finished  ;  as  also  the  new  chapter-house  and  vestries.  The  two 
beautiful  circular  porticoes  of  the  north  and  south  entrances, 
and  the  massy  piers  which  support  the  cupola,  a  circle  of  108  feet 
diameter  within  the  walls,  were  brought  to  the  same  height." 

In  the  diary  of  Sir  John  Evelyn,  under  date  of  Oct.  5,  1694, 
we  have  the  following :  "  I  went  to  St.  Paul's  to  see  the  choir, 
now  finished  as  to  the  stonework,  and  the  scaffolds  struck  both 
without  and  within  in  that  part." 

On  Dec.  2,  1696,  the  choir  was  opened  for  divine  service, 
the  first  held  on  the  spot  since  the  great  fire  of  1666.  This 
was  on  the  day  appointed  for  thanksgiving  for  the  Peace  of 
Ryswick ;  and  service  has  been  continued  without  interrup- 
tion to  this  day,  or  a  period  of  nearly  two  hundred  years.  On 
Feb.  1,  1699,  trie  morning-prayer  chapel  was  opened  for  ser- 
vices with  appropriate  ceremony;  and  finally,  in  1710,  when 
Sir  Christopher  had  attained  the  seventy-eighth  year  of  his  age, 
about  thirteen  years  before  his  death,  the  highest  stone  of  the 
cupola  was  laid  by  his  only  son,  Mr.  Christopher  Wren,  assisted 
by  the  venerable  architect,  Mr.  Strong  the  master-mason,  and 


14G  ENGLAND. 

the  Lodge  of  Free  and  Accepted  Masons,  of  which  Sir  Christo- 
pher was  for  many  years  the  active  and  honored  Master.  Thus 
the  cathedral  was  built  under  one  architect,  one  master-mason, 
and  one  bishop,  though  a  period  of  thirty-five  years  was  em- 
ployed in  its  erection.  The  cost  was  $3,739,770,  including 
$53,000  for  the  stone  wall,  iron  fence,  and  other  accessories. 
W  e  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  the  copy  of  a  document  whi<  h 
Sir  Christopher  caused  to  be  posted  in  various  parts  of  the  struc- 
ture. It  explains  itself,  and  also  redounds  to  the  credit  of  the 
great  architect. 

September  25,  1695 :  —  Whereas,  among  laborers  &c,  that  un- 
godly custom  of  swearing  is  too  frequently  heard,  to  the  dishonor 
of  God  and  contempt  of  authority  ;  and  to  the  end,  therefore,  that 
such  impiety  may  be  utterly  banished  from  these  works,  intended 
for  the  service  of  God  and  the  honor  of  religion  —  it  is  ordered, 
that  customary  swearing  shall  be  a  sufficient  crime  to  dismiss  any 
laborer  that  comes  to  the  call ;  and  the  clerk  of  the  works,  upon 
sufficient  proof,  shall  dismiss  them  accordingly.  And  if  any  master 
working  by  task,  shall  not,  upon  admonition,  reform  this  profana- 
tion among  his  apprentices,  servants,  and  laborers,  it  shall  be  con- 
strued to  his  fault ;  and  he  shall  be  liable  to  be  censured  by  the 
commissioners. 

This  is  the  only  cathedral  of  England  in  the  Roman  or  Italian 
style  of  architecture.  On  examining  the  structure  we  found 
that  we  had  previously  formed  a  just  conception  of  it.  It  had 
a  more  modern  and  clean  appearance  on  the  exterior  than  we 
had  expected;  but,  while  it  was  grand  and  imposing,  it  did 
not  impress  us  with  the  feeling  of  vastness.  There  being  no 
points  of  view  from  which  its  great  length  can  be  seen  to  advan- 
tage, we  have  never  yet  obtained  a  right  impression  of  it,  and 
could  not  help  smiling  at  what  may  be  the  obtuseness  of  our 
intellect,  in  being  unable  to  get  enthusiastic  as  Sir  John  Denham 
did,  when  in  contemplation  of  it  he  wrote  as  follows  :  — 

Crowned  with  that  sacred  pile,  so  vast,  so  high, 
That  whether  'tis  a  part  of  earth  or  sky, 
Uncertain  seems,  and  may  be  thought  a  proud 
Aspiring  mountain  or  descending  cloud. 

Its  length  is  500  feet ;  width  at  transepts  285  feet,  and  at  the 
west  front  180  feet.  The  campaniles  are  each  222  feet  high. 
The  dome  is  145  feet  in  diameter,  and  365  feet  high  from  the  grad- 
ing. The  Golden  Gallery,  as  it  is  called,  is  a  balustrade-enclosed 
walk,  at  the  apex  of  the  dome  outside,  and  is  reached  by  a  cir- 
cuitous walk  and  climb  of  616  steps.    From  this,  one  can  go  up, 


LONDON.  147 

through  the  lantern  or  cupola,  into  the  great  copper  ball  crown- 
ing the  structure,  and  surmounted  by  a  large  gilded  copper 
cross. 

On  another  day  we  went  into  it.  The  last  part  of  the  passage 
is  made  by  climbing  through  an  opening  inside  of  eight  five-inch- 
thick  iron  scrolls  that  assist  in  supporting  it,  and  are  in  part  de- 
signed as  decoration.  These  are  about  six  feet  high,  with  openings 
a  few  inches  wide  between  them,  through  which  the  wind  rushes, 
and  through  which  views  of  the  entire  city  may  be  obtained. 
Our  hats  left  in  the  clock-room  below,  we  passed  up  through 
this  division  and  through  an  opening  perhaps  eighteen  inches 
in  diameter  at  the  bottom  of  the  ball ;  and  there,  a  company  of 
four,  not  uncomfortably  crowded,  we  had  a  high  time.  Strong 
iron  bracework  was  about  on  the  inside,  and  an  iron  post  or 
principal  support,  perhaps  five  inches  square,  was  at  the  centre. 
There  was  a  very  slight  vibration,  but  much  less  than  we  antici- 
pated, and  it  gave  us  no  impression  of  insecurity.  The  hum  of 
great  London  was  below.  We  could  hear  no  distinct  sound 
save  the  whistle  of  the  wind  around  the  cross,  or  through  the 
iron  scrollwork.  The  day  was  comparatively  still,  though  some 
air  was  stirring. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  picture  our  feelings  while  here,  at 
almost  the  highest  point  over  London  to  which  a  mortal  has 
ever  climbed.  Old  St.  Paul's  had  a  spire  that  extended  up  165 
feet  above  this,  and  so  men  have  climbed  up  520  feet,  to  the  top 
of  the  highest  building  ever  erected  in  Great  Britain.  On  this 
building  they  have  been  to  the  top  of  the  cross,  20  feet  higher 
than  we  were  when  in  the  ball ;  but  this  is  exceptional,  and  we 
had  done  almost  as  well  as  the  best.  Here  had  sat  the  immor- 
tal Wren.  Here  had  been  kings  and  queens,  the  nobility  of  all 
lands,  poets,  philosophers,  prelates,  and  many  of  no  renown. 

As  we  pass  down  we  examine  the  Whispering  Gallery,  inside 
of  the  cathedral,  in  the  drum  of  the  dome.  We  look  down  — 
as  before  from  the  top,  or  eye  of  the  inner  dome,  —  on  pave- 
ment and  pygmies  below.  How  awe-inspiring  and  vast !  From 
this  height,  as  also  from  the  more  elevated  position  above,  we 
were  fully  impressed  with  the  immensity  of  the  structure,  and 
were  able  to  realize  something  of  the  greatness  of  the  architect 
who  conceived  it. 

The  attendant  in  the  Whispering  Gallery  tells  us  to  put  our 
ears  against  the  side  wall,  and  he  would  whisper  to  us  and  exhibit 
this  accidental  wonder.  He,  being  opposite,  against  the  wall, 
says  in  a  whisper  :  "  This  Cathedral  was  built  by  Sir  Christopher 


148  ENGLAND. 

Wren,  and  was  finished  in  the  year  17 10.  This  dome  is,  &c, 
&c."  All  was  as  distinctly  heard  as  if  we  were  by  his  side.  We 
had  heard  for  ourselves  the  wonder.  We  had  experienced  all 
that  any  one  can  experience,  so  far  as  the  material  work  is  con- 
cerned. When  we  put  our  name  on  the  visitors'  book  we  felt 
that  we  did  more  than  that,  for  we  joined  the  company  of  those 
who  for  two  and  a  half  centuries  have  been  doing  as  we  did. 
As  long  as  mind  endures,  as  often  as  the  hand  of  thought 
reaches  out,  it  must  gather  whether  it  will  or  not. 

It  is  not  far  from  6  P.  M.  of  this  Sunday.  Service  is  being 
held,  and  the  great  nave  is  half  filled.  The  audience  are  trying 
to  hear,  and  a  part  of  them  are  sincerely  worshipping ;  the  re- 
mainder, like  ourselves,  are  "  seeing  the  cathedral."  The  sounds 
were  confused  and  the  echo  troublesome,  though  not  so  much 
so  as  at  other  places.  We  were  favorably  impressed  with  the 
great  length  of  the  cathedral,  and  with  its  general  look  of  vast- 
ness,  —  not  awe-stricken,  but  filled  with  delight  at  the  privilege 
we  were  enjoying  in  being  in  great  St.  Paul's.  The  large  piers 
and  arches,  and  the  arched  ceiling  (tunnel-like,  but  here  and 
there  pierced  with  small  and  too  flat  domes),  all  appeared 
heavy  and  substantial,  —  built  to  last.  Elegant  colored-glass 
windows  are  about  the  apse,  or  chancel  end,  but  the  others  are 
of  small  square  lights  of  clear  glass.  A  common  square  black 
ami  white  marble  tiled  floor ;  monuments  and  tablets  here  and 
there  against  the  columns  and  walls  ;  an  elegant  oak  organ-case, 
in  two  parts,  on  the  side  walls  of  the  choir,  and  just  back  of  the 
high,  iron  screenwork  that  separates  the  choir  from  the  nave ; 
the  rich  oaken  stalls,  —  these  make  up  the  interior  of  St.  Paul's. 
The  great  central  dome  has  dim  paintings  by  Sir  James  Thorn- 
hill,  done  at  the  time  the  cathedral  was  built.  Seen,  as  the 
inside  of  the  great  dome  is,  through  smoke,  which  the  rays  of 
light  from  the  large  windows  above  penetrate  and  make  visible 
(this  effect  is  ever  present  during  the  light),  the  great  dome 
awakens  a  feeling  of  solemnity.  We  felt  something  of  what  we 
were  contemplating. 

The  shades  of  night  were  falling ;  the  assembly  had  broken 
up,  and  here  and  there  were  solitary  visitors,  moving  about 
weird-like  in  the  dim  light  as  if  loth  to  leave.  We  at  length 
passed  out,  and  returned  to  our  lodgings  at  West  End. 

What  ground  has  been  gone  over  between  the  hours  of  4  and 
8  p.  m.  Hyde  Park,  Westminster  Abbey  and  Bridge,  Parliament 
Houses,  the  almost  classic  river,  a  look  at  St.  Paul's,  —  and  we 
are  at  home  and  resting. 


LONDON.  149 

The  comparatively  recent  construction  of  St.  Paul's  deprives 
it  of  such  ancient  monuments  as  may  be  found  at  the  Abbey, 
and  in  other  English  cathedrals.  Those  here  are  of  white  mar- 
ble ;  and,  although  some  of  them  are  nearly  a  century  old,  they 
yet  have  a  newness  of  design  akin  to  statuary.  One  to  the 
memory  of  Lord  Nelson  is  the  most  costly  and  attractive.  It  is 
in  one  of  the  alcoves,  or  small  chapels,  at  the  west  end,  and  the 
entire  room,  some  twenty  feet  square,  is  devoted  to  it.  It  is 
elaborate  and  highly  decorated.  There  is  another  of  some  emi- 
nence at  the  left  side  of  the  choir.  It  is  a  life-size  statue  of 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  the  great  lexicographer.  He  is  buried  at 
the  Abbey  ;  but  one  so  poor  as  to  live  in  the  obscurity  of  a 
garret,  at  length  became  so  great  as  to  win  the  second  monu- 
ment in  this  important  church. 

"  There  's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will." 

The  monuments  of  this  church  are  of  consequence  as  regards 
their  elegance  of  design.  In  no  other  English  cathedral  is  there 
so  large  a  percentage  of  works  of  this  kind.  Impediments  to  the 
introduction  of  monuments  were  offered  ;  and  it  was  not  till  i  791 
that  the  opposition  was  overcome,  when  application  was  made 
to  erect  a  stone  to  the  memory  of  John  Howard,  the  philanthro- 
pist, who  died  at  Kherson,  Russia,  Jan.  26,  1790.  The  door 
thus  being  opened,  under  the  supervision  of  the  Royal  Academy 
many  others  have  been  erected,  among  which  those  of  men  of 
military  fame  prevail.  The  first  monument  was  set  up  in  1795. 
In  the  south  aisle,  against  the  wall,  is  a  full-size  statue  of  Bishop 
Reginald  Heber.  He  is  dressed  in  canonical  robes,  his  right 
hand  on  his  breast,  his  left  resting  on  a  Bible  standing  endwise. 
He  died  at  Trichinopoly,  India,  April  3,  1826,  at  the  age  of  42, 
and  is  celebrated  as  being  the  author  of  the  well-known  hymn 
beginning,  "  From  Greenland's  icy  mountains."  The  cathedral 
has  a  fine  basement,  hardly  inferior  in  interest  to  the  great  room 
of  the  cathedral  above  it,  and  always  visited  by  the  tourist. 
Here,  as  at  the  Whispering  Gallery,  the  fee  of  a  shilling  is 
charged.  The  room  is  fifteen  feet  high,  and  is  clean  and  airy. 
The  floor  is  paved  with  stone  slabs,  and  a  large  number  of  win- 
dows thoroughly  light  it.  Innumerable  columns  of  stone,  for 
the  support  of  the  arching  overhead,  and  floor  resting  upon 
it,  give  the  room  a  forest-like  appearance ;  though  by  no 
means  depriving  it  also  of  the  look  of  a  vast  chapel,  for  at 
the  proper  place  there  is  an  altar  and  its  appurtenances.     In 


150  ENGLAND. 

this  vicinity  are  a  few  effigies  and  tablets  from  the  first  cathe- 
dral. Forming  an  architectural  museum,  are  a  lot  of  relit  S 
that  were  found  in  the  ground  at  the  building  of  this  cathedral, 
and  so  are  of  Roman  origin,  or  were  used  as  parts  of  the  old 
cathedral. 

Under  the  centre  of  the  great  dome,  in  this  crypt,  stands  the 
granite  sarcophagus  in  which' rests  the  dust  of  Arthur  Wellesley, 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  died  at  Walmer  Castle,  near  heal, 
Sept.  14,  1852,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three.  This  sarcophagus 
is  grand.  So  justly  great  is  the  public  esteem  for  the  man, 
that  monuments  to  his  memory  are  almost  as  common  in  Eng- 
land as  are  tablets  of  "  the  Lion  and  the  Unicorn  fighting  for 
the  crown,"  or  as  Washington  Streets  and  men  named  "  George 
W."  are  in  America.  In  the  crypt  is  the  gorgeous  catafalque 
on  which  were  borne  the  remains  of  Wellington  at  the  funeral 
procession,  —  the  elegant  wheels  made  from  cannon  captured 
by  him.  For  a  small  fee  persons  are  admitted  within  the  iron 
fence  to  make  examinations,  —  always  accompanied  by  a  guide, 
whose  duty  is  to  see  that  visitors  carry  away  nothing  save  the 
story  he  tells  them. 

To  us  the  most  interesting  object  in  the  entire  cathedral  is  in 
this  crypt.  At  the  right  hand,  as  one  faces  the  rear  end,  and 
well  along  on  the  side,  is  the  last  resting-place  of  the  architect 
of  the  building,  Sir  Christopher  Wren.  The  spot  was  selected 
by  himself,  and  is  really,  though  unpretending,  a  choice  place  of 
sepulture.  It  is  under  one  of  the  windows,  and  is  very  light ; 
and,  if  we  mistake  not,  rays  of  the  sun  at  times  fall  on  the  tomb. 
There  is  no  imposing  monument,  —  only  a  level  stone  slab  some 
three  feet  wide  and  six  feet  long,  two  feet  from  the  floor,  bearing 
this  simple  statement :  — 

HERE    LYETH 

SR.    CHRISTOPHER    WREN 

The  Builder  of  This  Cathedral 

Church  of  ST.  PAUL  &c. 

who  Dyed 

in  the  Year  of  our  LORD 

MDCCXXII1 

And  of  his  Age  XCI. 

On  the  western  jamb  of  the  window  is  a  marble  tablet,  six  feet 
three  inches  long,  and  three  feet  high,  sunk  into  a  panel,  fin- 
ished with  a  well  cut  egg-and-tongue  moulding,  and  inscribed  as 
follows  :  — 


LONDON.  151 

LECTOR   SI    MONUMENTUM   REQUIRIS 
CIRCUMSPICE. 

(Reader,  if  you  seek  his  monument,  look  around  you.) 

He  contracted  a  cold  in  coming  from  Hampton  Court  to 
London,  which  doubtless  hastened  his  death,  but  he  died  as  he 
had  lived,  in  great  serenity.  In  the  last  days  of  his  life  he  was 
accustomed  to  take  a  nap  after  dinner.  On  the  25th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1723,  his  constant  servant,  thinking  he  slept  longer  than 
usual,  went  into  his  room  and  found  him  dead  in  his  chair. 

Two  events  of  special  interest  took  place  in  this  year.  On  the 
1 6th  of  July  was  born  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  the  eminent  painter. 
Elmes  says  :  — 

The  placid  soul  of  Wren  might,  by  a  poetical  license,  be  imagined 
to  have  informed  the  equally  placid  mind  of  Reynolds,  for  no  two 
men  could  be  found  to  form  a  more  just  parallel ;  equally  distin- 
guished for  industry,  love  of  art,  placidity,  modesty,  communicative- 
ness, and  disinterestedness.  ...  At  the  head  of  your  respected 
arts,  ye  both  lie  in  honor,  and  in  possession  of  the  love  and  rever- 
ence of  your  countrymen,  beneath  the  same  vast  dome  that  honors 
both  your  memories.     Goodness  and  ye  fill  up  one  monument. 

In  this  year  also,  1723,  was  erected  our  old  Christ  Church  on 
Salem  Street,  Boston.  The  design  of  this  has  been  attributed  to 
Wren,  and  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  indirectly  he  aided  its 
conception.  As  he  died  at  the  great  age  of  ninety-one,  and  was 
very  feeble  before  his  death,  it  can  hardly  be  presumed  that  he 
made  the  drawings  ;  but  he  may  have  dictated  them.  More 
probably  he  may  have  made  a  design  some  years  before,  which, 
being  at  hand,  found  its  way  to  Boston  ;  or  the  plan  may  have 
been  made  by  a  former  apprentice,  who  carried  on  his  master's 
work.  Again,  this  design  may  have  been  copied,  almost  with- 
out the  change  of  a  line,  from  St.  Bartholomew's-by-the-W rard- 
robe  j  for  that,  so  far  as  the  interior  is  concerned,  is  its  prototype, 
even  to  the  painted  cherub-heads  in  the  spandrils  of  the  arches 
over  the  galleries.  St.  Bartholomew's  was  built  from  Wren's 
designs  in  1692,  and  so  was  31  years  old  at  the  time  of  the 
erection  of  our  Boston  church.  The  London  church  is  79  feet 
^9  feet  wide,  and  38  feet  high.  The  dimensions  of  Christ 
Church  are  70  feet,  50  feet,  and  35  feet.  Aside  from  the 
likeness  of  their  interiors,  there  is  a  singular  agreement  in  the 
pillar-capitals  and  gallery  fronts,  and  also  in  the  mouldings, 
Combinations,  altar-work,  and  vases.     Their  exteriors  have  little  in 


t  52  ENGLAND. 

common.  There  are  two  ranges  of  windows  in  each  ;  but  those 
<>!'  the  London  church  are  circular-headed  on  the  second  range, 
and  only  segmental  tor  the  lust,  like  those  at  Boston  King's 
Chapel  ;  while  at  our  Christ  "Church  all  the  windows  have  circular 
tops.  The  London  church  has  a  plain  flat-roofed  tower,  80  feet 
high,  without  a  steeple,  though  it  is  quite  possible  there  may  at 
some  tune  have  been  one.  This  tower  is  at  the  right-hand  cor- 
ner instead  of  at  the  centre  of  the  front. 

The  steeple  on  our  Christ  Church  was  blown  down  in  the 
great  gale  of  18 15,  and  rebuilt  by  Bulfinch,  it  is  said,  according 
to  the  original  design.  In  its  important  features,  and  even 
details,  this  steeple  is  much  like  Wren's.  This  is  not  the  place 
to  argue  the  case,  —  but  we  repeat,  the  probabilities  are  that 
Christ  Church  was  indirectly  designed  by  the  distinguished 
architect  of  St.  Paul's. 

The  National  Gallery  of  Paintings  is  a  building  of  large  dimen- 
sions, situated  on  Trafalgar  Square,  one  of  the  main  business 
centres,  which  is  not  far  from  half  a  mile  from  the  Thames,  and 
about  midway  between  Westminster  and  St.  Paul's.  It  con- 
tains eleven  rooms  for  the  display  of  over  six  hundred  pictures, 
all  of  them  being  choice  works  of  the  Masters.  The  building  is 
open  to  the  public  daily. 

The  British  Museum  is  an  enormous  building,  light  and  airy. 
In  it,  free  to  the  public,  is  an  unsurpassed  collection  of  preserved 
animals,  which  can  better  be  imagined  than  described.  How 
wide  is  the  field  to  which  one  is  introduced,  in  the  works  of  art 
or  places  of  entertainment,  in  this  vast  metropolis  !  Museums 
and  galleries  abound.  Accessible  to  the  public,  they  are  prac- 
tically free,  and  better  than  can  be  found  elsewhere  in  the 
world. 

How  abundant  are  the  means  of  travel.  The  cab  system  is 
here  at  its  perfection.  The  low  prices  are  regulated  by  law.  It 
costs  one  passenger  a  shilling,  and  two  passengers  a  shilling  and 
sixpence,  to  go  a  reasonable  distance,  —  farther  than  from  the 
Boston  North  End  depots  to  those  at  the  other  part  of  the  city. 
Cabs  are  plenty  and  are  to  be  found  standing  in  the  centre  of 
all  principal  thoroughfares.  It  is  the  law  also  that  a  tariff-card, 
in  readable  type,  shall  be  put  up  inside  of  every  cab. 

Omnibuses  abound,  always  with  seats  on  the  top  as  well  as 
inside.  The  horse-cars,  or  trams,  are  heavier  than  ours,  and  not 
so  handsome,  but  they  are  clean  and  well  managed.  Like  the 
omnibuses,  they  have  seats  on  top,  where  the  travellers  sit  back 
to  back.     Then  there  is  the  underground  railway.     This  runs 


LONDON.  153 

almost  around  the  entire  city,  and  has  a  double  track.  Steam 
trains,  of  many  carriages,  are  constantly  passing  both  ways.  At 
convenient  points  are  stations  where  passengers  descend  and 
return  by  wide  stairways  through  well-lighted  and  spacious  train- 
houses.  This  road  is  in  all  respects  a  great  success.  Perhaps 
half  of  it  is  through  tunnels,  but  much  of  it  is  open  to  the  sky, 
and  the  cars  are  lighted  artificially.  So  frequent  are  the  trains 
that  one  goes  to  the  station  at  random,  as  he  would  to  an  omni- 
bus, sure  of  not  having  long  to  wait. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  oft-running  and  well-patronized  boats 
on  the  river.  London  is  perfectly  supplied  with  facilities  for 
transit.  Not  for  a  moment  would  the  overcrowded  horse-cars, 
often  seen  here  in  our  Boston  be  tolerated.  We  do  not  re- 
member once  standing  in  any  public  conveyance  in  England  or 
on  the  Continent. 

The  public  parks  of  London  are  very  numerous,  and  are 
admirably  located  for  convenience.  Their  total  extent  is  greater 
than  in  any  other  city  of  the  world.  Prominent  among  these 
are  Hyde  Park,  containing  400  acres  ;  St.  James's  and  Regent's 
parks,  containing  450  acres  each ;  and  Kensington  Gardens 
with  290.  All  these  are  within  the  metropolitan  district,  and 
are  as  readily  accessible  to  the  public  as  Boston  Common  or  the 
Public  Garden.  Besides  these,  London's  suburban  parks  are  of 
incredible  number  and  extent.  It  is  enough  to  name  some  of 
them,  and  say  that  all  these,  and  many  more,  are  within  six 
or  eight  miles  of  the  centre  of  the  city  and  easily  reached. 
Victoria  Park  has  300  acres,  Finsbury  115,  Hackney  Downs  50, 
Woolwich  Common  and  Greenwich  Park  174  each,  Peckham, 
Rye,  and  Soiithwark  63  each,  Wandworth  Common  302,  Wim- 
bledon 628.  A  little  farther  off  is  Richmond  Park  with  2,253 
acres,  the  largest  park  near  London.  Then  comes  Windsor  with 
3,800,  and  Hampton  Court  and  Bushey  Park  1,842  each,  and 
finally  Kew  Park  and  Gardens  (the  finest  botanic  garden  in 
England),  containing  684  acres.  Most  of  them  date  back  for 
centuries.  Kew  Garden  is  remarkable  for  its  neatness,  and  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  annually  visit  it.  In  the  vicinity  are  refresh- 
ment houses,  kept  in  good  order,  which  make  the  gardens  a 
favorite  place  of  resort,  on  Sundays  as  well  other  days. 

Volumes    might    be  written    in    regard    to   these  parks,   and 

then  only  •  would  he  given.     None  of  them 

are   finished  like  Central   Park,  New  York,  —  that  is.  as  far  as 

sand  lodge    an  concerned, — but  in  all  else  the  London 

parks  are  its  equals,  and  the  <  ity  has  done  nobly  for  the  comfort 


L54  ENGLAND. 

and  health  of  the  public.  The  more  one  experiences  of  London 
life,  the  more  he  realizes  its  greatness.  Everywhere  he  dis- 
i  overs  what  is  well  adapted  to  the  wants  and  tastes  of  our  cen- 
tury; the  old  appears  new,  and  the  new  old.  Within  a  few 
minutes'  walk  of  each  other  are  over  forty  churches  built  imme- 
diately after  the  fire  of  1666,  two  hundred  years  ago.  Some  of 
them  have  fine  interiors,  as  St.  Bride's,  St.  Stephen's  Walbrook, 
Bow  Church,  St.  Martin's  in  the  Fields,  and  St.  Clement  Danes. 
In  beauty,  save  perhaps  the  pews,  these  excel  the  <  hurches 
newly  built,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  modem  Gothic  struc- 
tures. Few  of  the  churches  named  have  many  worshippers ; 
the  population  has  removed,  but  veneration  for  the  old  spots, 
and  an  inherent  disinclination  to  change,  say  "  Stay  !"  anil  so  the 
old  churches  stand  forlorn. 

So  interesting  are  all  the  old  churches  of  London,  that  it  is 
with  an  effort  we  refrain  from  speaking  of  them  in  detail. 
One,  however,  we  feel  justified  in  naming,  and  in  giving  a  few 
items  of  its  history.  St.  Sepulchre's  is  near  the  Old  Bailey  prison. 
Here  preached  John  Rogers,  the  first  of  the  martyrs  during 
the  reign  of  Queen  Mary.  He  was  burned  at  the  stake  in 
Smithfield,  Feb.  4,  1555.  The  place  of  his  execution  is  now  a 
small  square  near  his  church.  He  is  the  John  Rogers  of  the  New 
England  Primer,  wherein  we  are  told  that  "  his  wife  followed 
him  to  the  place  of  execution,  with  nine  small  children,  and  one 
at  the  breast."  The  perplexing  question  of  number  has  been 
solved,  for  other  accounts  say  distinctly  that  there  were  ten 
children  in  all. 

Of  more  than  common  interest  to  Americans  is  the  fact  that 
in  St.  Sepulchre's  church  are  buried  the  remains  of  Capt.  John 
Smith,  who  in  1606  made  the  settlement  of  Virginia  at  James- 
town, and  whose  life  was  saved  by  the  intercession  of  Pocahon- 
tas. He  was  born  at  Willoughby,  England,  in  1579,  and  died  in 
London,  June  21,  1631.  He  made  voyages  of  dis<  overy  along 
the  coast  of  New  England,  landing  at  the  Isles  of  Shoals.  Just 
250  years  afterwards,  in  1864,  a  stone  monument  was  erected  to 
his  memory  on  Star  Island.  There  was  formerly  in  this  church 
a  monument  in  remembrance  of  him,  which  has  long  been  re- 
moved. We  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  the  poetical 
part  of  the  inscription  :  — 

Here  lies  one  conquered,  that  hath  conquered  kings, 
Subdued  large  territories,  and  done  things 
Which  to  the  world  impossible  would  seem, 
But  that  the  truth  is  held  in  more  esteem. 
Shall  I  report  his  former  service  done, 
In  honor  of  his  God  and  Christendom  ? 


LONDON.  155 

How  that  he  did  divide,  from  pagans  three, 

Their  heads  and  lives,  types  of  his  chivalry  ?  — 

For  which  great  service,  in  that  climate  done, 

Brave  Sigismundus,  King  of  Hungarion, 

Did  give  him,  as  a  coat  of  arms,  to  wear, 

Three  conquered  heads,  got  by  his  sword  and  spear ; 

Or  shall  I  tell  of  his  adventures  since, 

Done  in  Virginia,  that  large  continent  ? 

How  that  he  subdued  kings  unto  his  yoke, 

And  made  those  heathens  flee,  as  wind  doth  smoke  ; 

And  made  their  land,  being  of  so  large  a  station 

An  habitation  for  our  Christian  nation  ; 

Where  God  is  glorified,  their  wants  supplied; 

Which  else,  for  necessaries,  must  have  died. 

But  what  avails  his  conquests,  now  he  lies 

Interred  in  earth,  a  prey  to  worms  and  flies  ? 

Oh  !  may  his  soul  in  sweet  Elysium  sleep, 

Until  the  keeper,  that  all  souls  doth  keep, 

Return  to  judgment  ;  and  that  after  thence 

With  angels  he  may  have  his  recompense. 

By  the  will  of  Robert  Dow,  a  London  citizen  and  merchant- 
tailor,  who  died  in  1612,  the  annual  sum  of  26  s.  8d.  was  be- 
queathed for  the  delivery  of  a  solemn  exhortation  to  the 
condemned  prisoners  of  Newgate  near  by,  on  the  night  previous 
to  their  execution.     Says  the  historian  Stow  :  — 

It  was  provided  that  the  clergyman  of  St.  Sepulchre's  should 
come  in  the  night  time,  and  likewise  early  in  the  morning,  to  the 
window  of  the  prison  where  they  lie,  and  there  ringing  certain  tolls 
with  a  hand-bell  appointed  for  the  purpose,  should  put  them  in 
mind  of  their  present  condition  and  ensuing  execution,  desiring 
them  to  be  prepared  therefore  as  they  ought  to  be.  When  they 
are  in  the  cart,  and  brought  before  the  wall  of  the  church  [on  the 
way  to  Tyburn],  there  he  shall  stand  ready  with  the  same  bell,  and 
after  certain  tolls,  rehearse  the  appointed  prayer,  desiring  all  the 
people  there  present  to  pray  for  them. 

A  work  entitled  "  Annals  of  Newgate  "  says,  it  was  for  many 
years  a  custom  for  the  bellman  of  St.  Sepulchre's,  on  the  eve  of 
execution,  to  go  under  the  walls  of  Newgate,  and  to  repeat  the 
following  verses  in  the  hearing  of  the  criminals  in  the  condemned 
cell  :  — 

All  you  that  in  the  condemn'd  cell  do  lie, 

Prepare  you,  foi  to-morrow  you  shall  die. 

Watch  all  and  pray,  the  hour  is  drawing  near, 

When  you  before  th'  Almighty  must  appear. 

1      mine  well  yourselves,  in  time  repent, 

That  you  may  not  t'  eternal  flames  be  senl ; 

And  when  St.  'I'uli  hre'a  bi  II  to  morrow  tolls, 

The  Lord  have  mercy  on  your  souls  ! 

Pa   I  twelve  o'clock  I 


L56  ENGLAND. 

We  visited  many  of  these  venerable  churches,  generally  always 
on  weekdays,  and  found  female  sextons  in  attendance,  —  some- 
times almost  ready  to  hang  their  harps  on  the  willows,  as  they 
related  the  decline  from  days  of  old.  Our  Old  South,  on  Wash- 
ington Street,  is  not  nearer  to  commercial  activity,  nor  more 
removed  from  the  resident  population,  than  arc  a  hundred 
churches  in  the  world's  metropolis. 

On  our  visit  to  St.  Clement  Danes,  in  the  Strand,  —  an  ele- 
gant structure  without  and  within,  nearly  200  years  old,  —  we 
inquired  for  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson's  pew,  for  he  there  attended 
church ;  and  we  found  it  near  the  end  of  the  left  gallery,  a 
front  pew,  No.  iS.  There  are  columns  as  in  King's  Chapel, 
Boston,  and  against  one  of  these  the  old  lexicographer  sat  for 
years,  often  with  the  smooth-thinking  and  easy-going  Boswell 
beside  him.  Making  mention  of  one  of  these  occasions,  Bos- 
well says  :  — 

On  the  9th  of  April,  1773,  being  Good  Friday,  I  breakfasted  with 
him,  on  tea  and  cross-buns  ;  Dr.  Levet,  as  Frank  called  him.  making 
tea.  He  carried  me  with  him  to  the  church  of  St.  Clement  Danes, 
where  he  had  his  seat ;  and  his  behavior  was,  as  I  had  imagined  to 
myself,  solemnly  devout.  I  shall  never  forget  the  tremulous 
earnestness  with  which  he  pronounced  the  awful  petition  of  the 
Litany  :  "In  the  hour  of  death,  and  at  the  day  of  judgment,  good 
Lord  deliver  us  !  "  We  went  to  church  both  in  the  morning  and 
evening.  In  the  interval  between  the  services  we  did  not  dine  ;  but 
he  read  the  Greek  Testament,  and  I  turned  over  several  of  his 
books. 

In  memory  of  the  former  occupant,  a  brass  plate,  some  six 
inches  high  and  eight  inches  wide,  is  let  into  the  back  of  the 
pew,  and  reads  as  follows  :  — 

In  this  pew,  and  beside  this  pillar,  for  many  years  attended 
divine  service  the  celebrated  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  the  philosopher, 
the  poet,  the  lexicographer,  the  profound  moralist,  and  chief  writer 
of  his  time.  Born  1709,  died  1784.  In  the  remembrance  and 
honor  of  noble  faculties,  nobly  employed,  some  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  parish  of  St.  Clement  Danes  have  placed  this  slight  memorial, 
A.  D.  1851. 

The  inscription  is  said  to  have  been  prepared  by  Dr.  Croly, 
rector  of  St.  Stephen's  Walbrook.  Each  of  us  sat  where  the 
verger  informed  us  Johnson  used  to  sit.  The  pulpit  is  placed  as 
it  is  in  King's  Chapel,  and  the  Johnson  pew  is  within  easy  reach 
of  it.  We  thought  of  I  )r.  Taylor,  the  rector,  who  was  called  up  at 
night,  when  Johnson's  wife  Tetty  died,  to  go  to  Johnson's  house, 


LONDON.  157 

and  attempt  to  soothe  and  assuage  his  grief.     He  had  a  great 
mind  and,  when  stricken,  great  was  his  sorrow.  The  record  is  :  — 

The  letter  calling  him  was  brought  to  Dr.  Taylor  at  his  house  in 
the  cloisters,  Westminster,  about  three  in  the  morning,  and  as  it 
signified  his  earnest  desire  to  see  him,  he  got  up  and  went  to  John- 
son and  found  him  in  tears,  and  in  extreme  agitation.  After  a  little 
while  together  Johnson  requested  him  to  join  with  him  in  prayer. 
He  then  prayed  extempore,  as  did  Dr.  Taylor,  and  thus,  by  means 
of  that  piety  which  was  ever  his  primary  object,  his  troubled  mind 
was  in  some  degree  soothed  and  composed. 

Dr.  Taylor  once  told  Boswell  that,  on  entering  the  room, 
Johnson  expressed  his  grief  in  the  strongest  manner  he  had  ever 
read,  and  that  he  much  regretted  his  language  was  not  pre- 
served. It  was  doubtless  in  this  house  in  Gough  Square,  that 
Johnson  passed  ten  melancholy  years.  Sad  indeed  must  have 
been  his  distress,  when  he  was  compelled  to  write  the  following 
to  his  friend  Richardson,  the  novelist. 

Gough  Square,  16th  March,  1756. 
Sir,  —  I  am  obliged  to  entreat  your  assistance.  I  am  now  under 
arrest  for  five  pounds  eighteen  shillings.  Mr.  Strahan,  from  whom 
I  would  have  received  the  necessary  help  in  this  case,  is  not  at 
home,  and  I  am  afraid  of  not  finding  Mr.  Miller.  If  you  will  be 
so  good  as  to  send  me  this  sum,  I  will  very  gratefully  repay  you, 
and  add  to  it  all  former  obligations.  I  am,  sir,  your  most  obedient 
and  most  humble  servant, 

Sam.  Johnson. 
Sent  Six  Guineas. 
Witness,  William  Richardson. 

This  reminds  us  of  Will's  Coffee  House  where  Johnson,  Addi- 
son, Goldsmith,  and  others  of  like  spirit  so  often  congregated. 
We  found  it  an  ordinary  three-story  brick  building,  at  the  corner 
of  a  street  near  Covent  Garden.  There  is  a  common  liquor 
store  in  the  first  story,  and  a  tenement  above. 

There  are  three  particular  things  one  who  visits  London 
should  always  see,  —  the  Tower,  Hampton  Court,  and  the  Bun- 
hill  Burial-ground. 

The  Tower,  as  it  is  familiarly  called,  is  not  a  tower  simply,  nor  any 
single  building,  but  twelve  acres  of  ground  enclosed  by  a  massive 
Stone  wall,  one  side  of  which  borders  the  Thames.  Inside  the 
in'  losure  are  stone  buildings,  the  principal  of  which  is  the  large 
one  in  the  centre.  It  is  several  stories  high,  square  in  plan, 
measures  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  on  e;u  h  side,  and 


158  I  NGLAND. 

has  square  towers  at  each  angle.  These  are  continued  up  some 
twenty  feet  above  the  main  building,  and  each  is  crowned  with 
a  Moorish  dome  and  a  weather  vane.  The  White  'lower,  as  it 
is  called,  is  another  of  the  buildings,  and  was  erected  in  1078. 

One  finds  a  comfortable  waiting  room  just  inside  the  grounds, 
and  there  is  always  a  company  of  visitors  in  waiting.  \\  hen 
twenty  are  present,  one  of  the  guards  leads  the  way  hurriedly 
through  the  portcullis,  calling  attention  to  the  several  parts  of 
the  edifices. 

W  e  go  through  the  Museum  of  Armor.  On  each  side  are 
effigy  horses,  facing  towards  the  passage-way,  and  on  them  are 
images  of  the  kings  dressed  in  the  armor  worn  in  life. 

W  e  go  into  the  dungeon  where  for  twelve  years  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  was  confined  ;  the  ancient  chapel  of  St.  John,  five  hun- 
dred years  old  ;  the  modern  armory ;  the  dungeon-keep  where 
are  deposited  the  crown-jewels  and  other  articles  of  royal  value, 
all  enclosed  in  glass,  and  protected  by  iron-work. 

Hastily  we  see  the  Traitor's  Gate,  through  which  Raleigh, 
Sidney,  and  Russell  were  taken  into  the  Tower  ;  the  room  oppo- 
site, where  the  two  sons  of  Edward  IV.  were  murdered  at  the 
instigation  of  Richard  III. ;  the  Beauchamp  Tower,  where  Anne 
Boleyn  and  Lady  Jane  Gray  were  detained ;  the  old  banquet- 
hall,  in  which  are  sixty  thousand  rifles.  For  particulars  the 
reader  is  referred  to  "  Historical  Memorials  of  the  Tower,"  by 
Lord  de  Ros,  published  at  London  in  1867. 

Hampton  Court  is  reached  by  steam  railway,  and  is  fifteen 
miles  from  London.  This  palace  was  founded  by  Cardinal 
Wolsey;  and  of  his  building,  three  large  quadrangles,  in  the 
Tudor  style,  remain.  Large  additions  were  made  by  William 
III.,  from  designs  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren.  The  state  rooms 
contain  a  splendid  collection  of  paintings  by  Holbein,  Vandyke, 
Kneller.  and  West,  and  also  the  seven  original  cartoons  of 
Raphael.  Some  of  the  rooms  are  still  furnished  as  sleeping- 
rooms,  as  they  were  when  occupied  by  kings  and  queens 
centuries  ago.  The  public  are  freely  admitted  to  the  entire 
premises. 

The  extensive  grounds  are  laid  out  in  Dutch  style,  with  fine 
avenues.  In  its  greenhouse  is  the  largest  and  the  most  produc- 
tive grapevine  in  Europe.  It  was  planted  in  1767,  and  at  the 
time  of  our  visit  it  was  said  to  have  over  three  thousand  bunches 
of  Black  Hamburg  grapes  upon  it.  The  roots  of  the  vine  are 
in  a  garden,  and  the  trunk,  which  is  about  six  inches  in  diame- 
ter, extends  three  feet  from  the  ground,  along  the  wall  of  the 


LONDON.  159 

house,  which  it  then  enters.  Inside,  the  vine  spreads  over  the 
entire  top,  which  is  built  in  the  usual  conservatory  style,  with  a 
roof  having  but  one  slope.  It  is  hardly  needful  to  say  that  these 
grapes  are  raised  solely  for  the  royal  family. 

There  are  hundreds  of  acres  in  the  grounds,  and  adjoining  it 
is  a  park,  the  circumference  of  which  is  over  five  miles,  —  a 
delightful  spot  to  visit.  The  trees,  embowered  avenues,  terraces, 
gardens,  and  long  vistas  yet  remain  as  they  were  centuries  ago. 
The  soil,  once  sacred  to  the  tread  of  royalty,  is  now  a  republican 
delight  to  the  multitude. 

A  remarkable  depositary  of  the  sainted  dead  is  Bunhill  Burial- 
ground,  in  one  of  the  busiest  parts  of  London,  on  a  great  thor- 
oughfare, opposite  the  house  in  which  John  Wesley  died  on  the 
2d  of  March,  1791.  Almost  adjoining  this  is  the  church  in 
which  Wesley  preached.  The  burial-ground  was  laid  out  for  a 
sacred  purpose  ;  the  burial  of  Nonconformists  and  their  friends, 
who  have  made  the  ground  classic.  No  cathedral  cemetery,  to 
which  they  could  not  be  admitted,  has  an  honor  greater  than 
this.  Here  rests  the  sacred  poet,  Isaac  Watts,  whose  monument 
tells  us  that  he  died  Nov.  25,  1748.  There  is  a  monument  to 
the  memory  of  Susannah  Wesley,  the  mother  of  nineteen  chil- 
dren, two  of  whom  were  John  and  Charles.  Here  is  the  grave 
of  John  Bunyan,  who  died  Aug.  31,  1688;  and  that  of  Daniel 
Defoe,  the  author  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe."  Could  the  doctrine 
of  a  literal  resurrection  be  true,  no  grander  company  would  as- 
semble at  one  spot,  or  walk  forth  into  glory  clad  in  whiter  robes 
than  theirs.  No  pope  or  bishop,  of  Roman  Church  or  English, 
could  understand  the  plaudit,  "  Well  done  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant, enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord,"  better  than  would 
they.  These  came  up  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  so  would 
shine  resplendent. 

London  is  great.  A  volume  appropriated  to  each  of  a  thou- 
sand things  would  not  tell  the  story.  Her  history  has  a  vast 
reach  and  the  records  have  been  well  kept.  Her  population 
is  a  round  four  and  a  half  millions,  —  as  much  as  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  Chicago,  Cincinnati,  Boston,  and  ten  more  of  our 
largest  New  England  cities  combined.  Her  great  Library  at 
the  Museum  has  as  many  books  as  Harvard  and  Yale  colleges. 
and  the  boston  Public  Library,  all  put  together. 

Our  stay  here  was  from  Sunday,  May  12,  to  Saturday  the  25th, 
about  two  weeks,  and  no  hour  of  time  was  unemployed.  We 
were  amid  scenes  of  which  history  had  made  the  letter  some- 
what familiar ;  and  now  personal  observation  made  the  spirit  a 


1G0  ENGLAND. 

living  reality.  No  one  can  know  London  till  he  sojourns  there 
for  months,  visiting  its  places  of  interest,  and  reading  anew  the 
history  of  each  in  the  admirable  works  written  for  the  purpose. 

As  regards  the  habits  of  daily  life  we  find  but  little  that  is 
peculiar.  The  influence  of  the  press  and  of  travel  have  changed 
the  system  of  domestic  as  well  as  political  economy.  Both 
nations,  American  and  English,  have  given  and  received.  It 
savors  perhaps  of  egotism,  but  it  is  exceedingly  easy  to  say  that 
the  influence  of  the  daughter  excels  that  of  the  mother.  There 
are  more  traces  of  America  in  England,  than  of  England  in 
America.  The  modifications  have  been  from  our  direction,  for  it 
is  true  now,  as  in  Bishop  Berkeley's  day,  that  "  Westward  the  star 
of  empire  takes  its  way."  Liberalism  in  England  is  not  Com- 
munism, and  will  never  be.  Liberty  may  be  ill-used  by  fanatics, 
but  the  sound  sense  of  England  will  take  care  of  itself,  and  "  out 
of  the  bitter  will  come  forth  sweet."  There  are  some  points  of 
English  polity  to  be  spoken  of,  but  not  now. 

On  this  Saturday,  May  25,  we  take  a  train  at  1  p.m.  for 
Oxford. 


OXFORD.  161 


CHAPTER   IX. 

OXFORD. 

WE  now  begin  a  tour  through  the  central  part  of  Eng- 
land, in  a  northerly  direction  towards  Scotland,  for 
we  intend  to  see  England  with  unusual  thorough- 
ness. Our  first  place  of  sojourn  is  Oxford,  where  we  arrive  at 
3.30  p.  m.,  Saturday,  May  25,  having  had  a  two  and  half  hours' 
ride  from  London.  The  place  presents  a  rural  appearance,  trees 
and  gardens  being  interspersed  among  the  buildings.  Nowhere 
is  there  a  commercial  look,  for  it  is  emphatically  a  university 
town,  and  dependent  mainly  for  support  on  its  colleges.  It  was 
made  a  seat  of  learning  at  an  early  day,  and  is  thus  referred  to 
by  Pope  Martin  II.  a.  d.  882.  Situated  between  the  rivers 
Cherwell  and  Isis,  it  has  a  population  of  31,544,  and  is  irregu- 
larly built,  with  many  narrow  and  crooked  streets.  Many  of  the 
buildings  are  old,  yet  in  good  repair.  Tradition  says  that  this 
was  a  favorite  resort  of  Alfred  the  Great. 

In  one  of  the  public  streets  the  martyrs  Latimer,  Ridley,  and 
Cranmer  were  burned.  The  spot  is  opposite  Balliol  College, 
and  marked  by  a  very  imposing  brown  sandstone  Gothic  mon- 
ument about  thirty  feet  high,  erected  in  1841,  from  designs  by 
Gilbert  Scott. 

Latimer  and  Ridley  were  led  to  the  stake  Oct.  16,  1555.  A 
bag  of  gunpowder  was  fastened  about  the  body  of  the  former,  — 
probably  as  an  act  of  charity,  to  hasten  his  death,  —  and  so  he 
died  immediately.  While  being  bound,  he  said  to  his  com- 
panion :  "  Be  of  good  comfort,  Master  Ridley,  and  play  the 
man  ;  we  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle,  by  God's  grace,  in 
England,  as  I  trust  shall  never  be  put  out."  It  never  has  been 
extinguished,  and  will  continue  to  "  shine  brighter  and  brighter, 
to  the  perfect  day." 

Latimer  and  Ridley,  John  Rogers,  who  was  burned  at  Smith- 
field,  Feb.  4  of  the  same  year,  and  Cranmer,  burned  in  Oxford 
March  21,  1556,  were  graduates  of  Cambridge,  the  rival  univer- 
sity of  Oxford.    These  two  distinguished  seats  of  learning  are  to 

11 


162  ENGLAND. 

England  what  Harvard  College  and  Vale  are  to  New  England. 
Cambridge  has  long  been  recognized  as  liberal  and  reformatory 
in  tendency,  while  Oxford  has  prided  herself  on  her  conserva 
tism.  1  )ean  Stanley,  in  a  late  speech,  ventured  the  remark  that 
iridge  was  celebrated  for  educating  men  to  be  martyrs,  and 
Oxford  for  burning  them.  Cranmer  was  a  fellow-laborer  with 
Latimer  and  Ridley.  Me  was  arrested  and  cited  to  appear  at 
Rome  within  eighty  days,  but  could  not  do  so,  and  was  con- 
demned as  contumacious.  He  was  at  first  firm,  but  the  fear  of 
death  overcame  him  and  he  recanted,  and  repeated  his  recanta- 
tion many  times,  but  without  avail.  In  his  last  effort  he  declared 
that  he  had  been  the  greatest  of  persecutors,  and  comparing 
himself  to  the  penitent  thief,  humbly  begged  for  pardon  ;  but 
in  spite  of  all,  on  March  21,  1556,  Queen  Mary  —  who  had  a 
bitter  hatred  towards  him,  as  did  the  bishops,  who  were  resolved 
not  only  on  his  degradation  but  his  death  —  directed  him  to 
prepare  for  the  stake.  A  recantation  was  given  him,  which  he 
was  ordered  to  read  publicly  to  the  spectators.  He  transcribed 
and  signed  it,  and  kept  a  copy,  which  he  altered,  making  a  dis- 
avowal of  his  recantations.  After  listening  to  a  sermon,  he  finally 
avowed  himself  a  Protestant,  declaring  that  he  would  die  in  his 
old  faith ;  that  he  believed  neither  in  papal  supremacy  nor  in 
transubstantiation,  proclaiming  that  the  hand  which  had  signed 
his  recantation  should  be  the  first  to  suffer  from  the  fire.  He 
was  taken  to  the  spot  where  Latimer  and  Ridley  were  burnt  the 
October  before,  and  died  like  them,  his  death  adding  light  to  the 
candle  which  could  never  be  put  out.  As  the  flames  rose  about 
him  he  thrust  in  his  right  hand,  and  held  it  there  till  it  was  con- 
sumed, crying  aloud,  "  This  hand  hath  offended  ;  this  unworthy 
right  hand."  His  last  audible  words  were,  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive 
my  spirit." 

The  city  has  been  for  centuries  one  of  great  respectability  and 
repute,  and  Charles  I.  once  made  it  his  headquarters.  The 
cathedral  attached  to  Christ's  College  is  on  the  site  of  a  priory, 
founded  in  the  eighth  century.  It  is  Gothic,  of  the  style  of  the 
twelfth  century,  and  has  a  spire  146  feet  high.  This  is  one  of  the 
five  cathedrals  of  England  having  spires  ;  but  it  is,  however,  only 
a  remnant  of  a  church  which,  probably,  when  entire,  had  little 
merit.  St.  Peter's  is  the  oldest  church  in  Oxford  ;  but  St.  Mary's 
is  also  venerable,  and  has  a  steeple  180  feet  high. 

The  Bodleian  Library,  opened  in  1602,  contains  three  hun- 
dred thousand  volumes.  There  is  connected  with  the  library  a 
museum  containing  many  portraits  of  distinguished  people.     In 


OXFORD.  163 

this  room,  among  other  prominent  objects  of  interest,  is  an 
oaken  chair,  once  a  part  of  the  ship  in  which  Sir  Francis  Drake 
made  his  celebrated  voyage  around  the  world.  He  set  sail  from 
Plymouth,  England,  Dec.  13,  1577,  over  three  hundred  years 
ago,  and  reached  home  again  in  November,  1580.  He  died 
and  was  buried  at  sea,  near  Puerto  Bello,  Dec.  27,  1595. 

The  poet  Cowley,  in  1662,  composed  the  following  verse, 
which  is  engraven  on  a  silver  plate  and  affixed  to  the  chair :  — 

To  this  great  ship,  which  round  the  Globe  has  run, 

And  matched  in  race  the  chariot  of  the  sun, 

This  Pythagorian  ship  (for  it  may  claim 

Without  presumption,  so  deserved  a  name) 

By  knowledge  once,  and  transformation  now, 

In  her  new  shape  this  sacred  port  allow. 

Drake  and  his  ship,  could  not  have  wished  from  Fate, 

An  happier  station,  or  more  blest  estate ; 

For  lo !  a  seat  of  endless  rest  is  given, 

To  her  in  Oxford,  and  to  him  in  Heaven. 

Here  is  exhibited  the  lantern  used  by  Guy  Fawkes  in  the 
memorable  plot  to  blow  up  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  Nov.  5, 
1605.  It  is  an  ordinary  lantern,  with  holes  through  the  tin.  In 
fact,  it  is  precisely  like  those  used  in  New  England  fifty  years 
ago. 

The  college  buildings  are  mostly  built  of  yellowish  sandstone, 
now  bedimmed  with  age,  and  many  of  them  are  much  decayed. 
They  are  unlike  our  college  buildings,  being  constructed  with  an 
imposing  facade,  through  whose  centre  is  an  arch,  under  the 
second  story,  opening  into  an  enclosed  quadrangle.  These 
quadrangles  vary  in  dimensions,  from  one  hundred  to  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  square,  and  the  students'  rooms  open  into 
them.  Out  of  the  quadrangle  nearest  the  street,  similar  arches 
may  often  lead  into  other  quadrangles  in  the  rear  of  the  first,  or 
at  its  sides ;  so  that  the  establishment  may  be  extended,  in  a 
series  of  buildings,  without  losing  its  primal  characteristics. 

These  roofless  squares  have  velvet  grass,  with  wide  walks 
around  the  outside,  against  the  buildings,  and  cross-paths  lead- 
ing to  the  doorways  and  arches.  Scrupulously  clean  is  every 
inch  of  college  ground  in  Oxford.  Not  a  piece  of  paper  litters 
the  lawn ;  and  many  students  have  flower-pots  at  their  win- 
dows. Fuschias,  petunias,  nasturtiums,  and  geraniums  were 
abundant    The  buildings  vary  in  design,  but  are  all  three  01 

four  stories  high.  Some  of  them  are  built  out  flush  ;  and  others 
have  corridors,  cloister-like,  under  the  second  story,  around  their 
quadrangles. 


164  ENGLAND. 

Connected  with  many  colleges  are  large  parks,  for  centuries 
used  as  places  of  academic  resort.  They  have  avenues  and 
trees  like  Boston  Common,  and  the  main  avenue  at  Merton  Col- 
lege has  a  circuit  miles  in  length.  Too  much  cannot  be  said 
in  praise  of  those  classic  grounds.  Flower-plats  are  cultivated, 
and  fine  shrubbery ;  and  there  are  brooks,  embankments,  and 
bridges.  In  a  word,  if  paradise  ever  was  lost,  much  of  it  has 
here  been  regained.  It  is  no  stretch  of  the  imagination  to  think 
that  Milton,  educated  amidst  similar  grounds  at  Cambridge, 
was  on  their  account  more  inclined  to  meditate  on  "  Paradise 
Regained." 

The  antiquity  of  Oxford  as  a  seat  of  learning  is  undisputed. 
It  is  so  referred  to  by  Giraldus  Cambrensis  in  1180,  more  than 
seven  hundred  years  ago.  Vacarius,  a  Lombard,  lectured  here 
on  civil  law,  about  the  year  1149.  The  first  use  of  the  word 
University  (universitas) ,  in  this  sense,  appears  in  a  statute  of 
King  John  in  1201.  It  was  applied  to  similar  institutions  in 
Paris,  in  an  ordinance  of  Pope  Innocent  III.,  bearing  date  12 15. 
The  place  was  so  recognized  as  a  desirable  resort  for  persons  of 
education,  that  Wood,  its  principal  historian,  says  :  "  At  one 
time  there  were  within  its  precincts  thirty  thousand  persons 
claiming  to  be  scholars,  though  of  course  not  all  belonging  to 
the  university."  Its  first  charter  was  granted  by  Henry  III.  in 
1244. 

On  the  10th  of  February,  1355,  a  disturbance  occurred,  —  or 
what  in  our  day  would  be  designated  a  rebellion,  — which  ended 
in  an  edict  from  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  whose  diocese  included 
Oxford,  that  thereafter  there  should  be  annually  celebrated  in 
St.  Mary's  Church  a  mass  for  the  souls  of  those  who  were  killed, 
and  that  the  mayor,  two  bailiffs,  and  sixty  of  the  principal  citi- 
zens should  be  present  and  offer  a  penny  each  at  the  great  altar, 
in  default  of  which  they  were  to  pay  one  hundred  marks  yearly 
to  the  University.  The  penance  was  afterwards  mitigated,  but 
was  not  abolished  till  1825  ;  so  that,  in  some  form,  it  remained 
for  nearly  five  hundred  years. 

Passing  over  many  interesting  facts,  we  name  the  colleges  in 
the  order  of  their  foundation. 

The  University  comprises  twenty  colleges  :  University,  founded 
1249;  Balliol,  1263  to  1268;  Merton,  1264  (removed  from 
Maiden  in  1274);  Exeter,  1314;  Oriel,  1326;  Queen's,  1340; 
New,  1386  ;  Lincoln,  1427  ;  All  Souls,  1437  ;  Magdalen,  1456  ; 
Brazenose,  1509;  Coqjus  Christi,  1516;  Christ  Church,  1546- 
1547;  Trinity,  1554;  St.  John's,  1555  ;  Jesus,  1571  ;  Wadham, 


OXFORD.  165 

1613;  Pembroke,  1620 j  Worcester,  17 14;  Keble  (by  subscrip- 
tion, as  a  memorial  to  Rev.  John  Keble),  1870.  The  num- 
ber of  uudergraduates  for  the  year  1873-4  was  2,392;  the 
whole  number  of  members  on  the  books  was  8,532.  The  college 
buildings  are  located  near  each  other,  though  they  extend  over 
an  area  of  at  least  a  square  mile.  Three  or  four  are  sometimes 
on  a  single  street,  their  grounds  adjoining.  The  undergraduates 
in  each  college  average  one  hundred  and  twenty  —  or  if  all  the 
students  and  members  be  included,  the  average  is  four  hundred 
and  twelve  :  numbers,  which  are  small  when  compared  with 
those  of  our  leading  American  colleges. 

These  colleges  are  in  most  respects  as  independent  of  each 
other  as  if  they  were  in  different  towns.  Each  has  its  own  Mas- 
ter, or,  as  we  should  say,  President.  It  governs  its  own  affairs 
to  the  minutest  detail,  but  acts  always  in  subordination  to  cer- 
tain regulations  made  by  the  Council  of  Management,  which  is 
composed  of  all  the  Masters. 

No  institutions  have  exerted  a  greater  influence  on  the  world 
than  this  and  its  companion  at  Cambridge. 

As  we  walked  along  the  shadow  of  these  venerable  walls, 
beneath  the  shade  of  their  old  trees,  or  sat  beside  the  gently 
flowing  streams ;  as  we  went  into  the  dining-halls  and  looked 
upon  the  portraits  of  renowned  men  and  upon  their  heraldry ; 
as  we  sat  on  the  benches  which  had  been  occupied  by  eminent 
men  ;  as  in  the  chapels  we  were  inspired  with  new  reverence 
for  things  great  and  good  ;  as  we  wandered  at  will  —  at  this  time 
of  college  vacation  —  from  close  to  close,  and  remembered  the 
name  and  fame  of  the  ecclesiastics,  poets,  historians,  philoso- 
phers, scientists,  —  new  school  and  old,  High  Church,  Low 
Church,  and  No  Church,  —  and  thought  of  the  six  hundred 
years  of  results  since  the  charter  and  first  foundation,  —  we  felt 
that  Oxford  was  inexpressibly  great. 

The  fine  weather  —  which,  as  we  say  at  home,  was  apparently 
settled —  enabled  us,  for  the  first  time  since  our  landing,  to  dis- 
pense with  overcoats  ;  but,  as  the  sequel  proved,  only  for  an 
hour. 

The  new  foliage,  the  odor  of  flowers,  the  birds,  the  familiar 
croak  and  incessant  wheeling  of  the  rooks,  seemed  part  and 
parrel  of  the  premises,  as  if,  like  the  trees  and  buildings,  they 
had  been  there  for  a  century. 

We  attended  worship  al  St.  Peter's,  heard  the  servire  read,  not 
intoned,  and  listened  to  a  matter-of-fact  sermon,  about  as  well 
delivered  as  the  average  of  sermons  at  home  \  and  at  5.30  p,  .\i., 


1GG  ENGLAND. 

of  this  same  Sunday,  were  ready  to  move  on  to  Stratford-upon- 
Avon,  the  home  of  Shakespeare.  Our  visit  was  in  vacation 
time,  but  many  students  remained  in  the  city,  and  we  noted 
their  fine  physique.  None  of  them  were  puny,  and  hardly  one 
had  the  "  student's  look."  They  were  good  specimens  of 
Young  England,  square-built,  solid,  healthy,  and  stocky.  Uni- 
formity of  size,  demeanor,  and  conversation  prevailed.  With 
the  pleasantest  memories  of  Oxford,  so  admirably  adapted  to 
its  great  purposes,  we  moved  out  of  the  station  towards  the 
home  of  one  who  did  so  much  to  make  great  thoughts  the  com- 
mon property  of  literature  and  life. 


WARWICK.  167 


CHAPTER  X. 

WARWICK  —  STRATFORD-ON-AVON LEAMINGTON  —  KENILWORTH 

—  COVENTRY  —  BIRMINGHAM  —  LICHFIELD. 

WHEN  we  started  Sunday  for  Stratford  we  only  thought 
of  briefly  visiting  Old  Warwick  on  our  way ;  but  after 
a  two  hours'  ride,  arriving  here,  we  were  tempted  to  re- 
main over  night,  and  were  soon  at  a  comfortable  hotel,  a  com- 
mercial-travellers' house,  near  the  station.  It  being  but  eight 
o'clock,  and  not  yet  sunset,  we  walked  out  for  a  view  of  the 
historic  place,  which  we  soon  decided  was  one  of  much  interest. 
Half  the  houses  were  picturesque,  many  of  them  built  in  the 
timbered  and  plastered  style.  All  sorts  of  thoroughfares  were 
there,  from  broad  and  level,  to  narrow  crooked  and  hilly.  Eve- 
ning service  being  just  ended,  an  unusual  number  of  well  dressed 
people  were  in  the  streets,  and  the  hour  reminded  us  of  a  New 
England  Sunday. 

Warwick  is  situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Avon,  and  has  a 
population  of  10,986. 

The  castle  is  one  of  the  finest  feudal  structures  in  England. 
It  is  grandly  situated,  its  colossal  rear  making  a  bank  of  the 
river,  and  there  are  meadows  and  groves  near  by.  All  is  in 
most  perfect  repair,  and  on  Monday  it  was  our  good  privilege 
to  visit  it  and  its  remarkable  grounds.  It  is  occupied  by  the 
Earl  of  Warwick,  who  kindly  permits  strangers  to  examine  the 
premises  at  certain  times.  One  passes  through  the  arched  gate- 
way, on  one  side  of  which  is  a  room  containing  a  museum  of 
antiquities.  A  prim  young  miss,  daughter  of  the  matronly  gate- 
keeper, glibly  but  bashfully  gives  the  history  of  an  enormous 
pun<  hbowl  and  other  interesting  things.  An  optional  fee 
makes  things  agreeable,  and  we  pass  through  the  grand  avenue, 
turning  bark  now  and  then  to  look  at  the  high  solid  walls  of  the 
ivy-f  overed  tower. 

We  ^<<  through  a  remarkable  lawn  and  gravelled  avenues, 
and  not  tar  in  the  distance  at  our  right,  partially  embowered  in 


168  ENGLAND. 

green,  —  at  times  on  a  level  with  us,  at  others  on  the  little  hill- 
sides,—  we  see  the  ruins  of  monastic  establishments.  How 
scrupulously  everything  is  cared  for,  bearing  evidence  of  con- 
stant watchfulness  of  the  servants,  such  as  only  the  English 
aristocracy  can  secure. 

Next  we  walk  over  the  great  lawn,  to  the  greenhouse  five 
hundred  feet  away.  We  are  invited  there  by  the  venerable 
gardener,  but  not  without  hope  of  reward.  Here  is  the  cele- 
brated Warwick  Vase  ;  and  who,  claiming  knowledge  of  art,  has 
not  heard  of  it?  It  stands  on  a  pedestal  six  feet  high.  It  is  of 
marble,  now  of  yellowish  tinge,  but  tolerably  white.  It  is  re- 
markably rich  in  carvings,  and  of  great  age,  its  early  history 
being  lost  in  antiquity.  It  appeared  -to  be  six  feet  in  diameter, 
and  the  same  in  height.  It  was  years  ago  found  in  a  lake  near 
Tivoli,  and  presented  to  the  Earl  of  Warwick.  All  over  the 
civilized  world  may  be  seen  copies  of  this  vase,  made  by  per- 
mission of  the  owner. 

Standing  at  the  door  of  this  conservatory,  and  facing  towards 
the  castle,  a  scene  of  wonderful  beauty  is  presented.  The  spot 
is  somewhat  elevated,  and  we  look  for  miles  over  hills,  velvet 
fields,  and  woodlands.  Conspicuous  among  the  trees,  making 
our  picture's  foreground,  are  spreading  cedars  of  Lebanon. 
The  river  meanders  on  its  quiet  way  ;  and  the  winding  road,  half 
hidden,  adds  its  charm.  Bordering  the  lawn  which  makes  our 
left  foreground  is  the  cheerful  castle,  in  color  a  sort  of  buff- 
tinged  granite.  It  is  by  no  means  ancient  in  appearance,  but 
the  reverse,  except  in  its  design.  The  main  tower  is  128  feet 
high,  and  dates  back  full  five  hundred  years.  There  is  another, 
147  feet  high,  of  uncertain  date.  Ivy  has  its  way,  and  covers 
parts  of  the  great  structure.  The  castle  is  colossal,  its  outlines 
broken  by  octagonal  and  square  towers.  Let  us  visit  the  castle 
itself.  An  additional  shilling  is  to  be  paid  to  the  young  woman 
who  guides  us,  and  who  only  commences  her  tour  when  the 
proper  number  of  visitors  has  accumulated.  We  pass  through 
four  or  five  large  rooms,  of  elegantly  finished  oak  and  pine, 
painted  and  gilded.  The  furniture  and  upholstery  are  rich 
in  design,  —  some  ancient,  some  modern,  but  all  in  keeping 
with  the  place.  Pictures  abound,  —  many  of  them  are  by  the 
Masters.  Bric-a-brac  is  in  profusion,  much  of  it  hundreds  of 
years  old,  presented  to  former  earls  by  royalty.  There  is  also 
a  museum  of  armor.  In  one  room  is  a  chimney,  or  open  fire- 
place, with  its  cheerful  fire.  It  is  some  nine  feet  wide,  projecting 
well  into  the  room,  and  is  high  enough  to  walk  into. 


STRATFORD-ON-AVON.  169 

What  fine  views  from  the  rear  windows  !  Beyond  are  the 
meadows  and  the  groves  ;  and  to  the  right,  extending  country- 
ward,  are  the  hills  and  scenery  before  described. 

The  town  was  formerly  walled,  and  there  yet  remains  a  gate- 
way, surmounted  by  a  chapel.  Half  a  mile  up  the  main  street  is 
Leicester  Hospital,  endowed  centuries  ago  by  the  Earl  of  Lei- 
cester, and  charmingly  described  by  Hawthorne.  Here  is  the 
ancient  chair,  said  to  be  a  thousand  years  old,  accurate  copies 
of  which  are  for  sale. 

Near  by  is  the  church,  built  in  1693,  with  its  massive  tower  of 
delightful  proportions.  How  charming  are  the  old  mansions 
with  their  profusion  of  trees,  all  combining  to  make  Warwick  a 
most  inviting  place. 

In  the  twilight,  at  the  late  hour  of  9.30,  the  worshippers  were 
coming  out  of  old  St.  Mary's  Church,  which  is  situated  at  the 
most  public  centre,  in  the  midst  of  a  venerable  churchyard.  It 
is  an  ancient  Gothic  edifice,  having  an  end  tower  with  a  tall 
spire  above  it.  The  dim-lighted  interior  carried  us  back  into  a 
distant  age. 

What  ground  have  we  gone  over  in  a  few  hours  !  —  hours  not 
over-crowded  by  any  means. 

Monday  we  are  up  early  for  a  new  ramble,  —  first  to  see 
the  town  anew ;  next  to  visit  the  castle  already  described ; 
and  then  to  go  over  the  Old  Hospital,  and  to  hear  its  history 
from  a  guide-inmate.  Built  and  endowed  by  one  of  the 
old  earls  hundreds  of  years  ago,  it  has  apartments  of  two  or 
three  rooms  each,  accomodating  perhaps  ten  families.  These 
are  for  old  soldiers,  who  are  past  a  given  age  and  possess  certain 
requisites.  They  must  have  wives,  and  on  the  death  of  one 
soldier  his  place  passes  to  another.  About  $350  a  year  is  given 
them  for  subsistence,  out  of  an  endowment  fund,  and  of  course 
the  rent  is  free.  On  the  death  of  the  husband,  $100  is  given  to 
the  widow,  who  must  vacate  the  premises.  If  the  wife  dies  first, 
then  the  husband  also  gives  up  the  apartment  and  endowment, 
and  goes  into  the  common  home,  in  another  part  of  the  build- 
ing. Great  neatness  prevails,  and  all  is  under  supervision  of 
the  chaplain,  or  Master. 

STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 

We  arrived  here  at  2  p.  m.,  after  a  ride  of  an  hour,  and  took 
coach  to  the  famed  Red  Horse  Hotel,  made  famous  by  Wash- 
ington Irving's  "  Sketch  Book."     The  parlor,  a  low  room  some 


170  ENGLAND. 

twelve  feet  square  on  the  first  floor,  fronting  on  the  street,  is 
used  by  visitors.  This  is  the  room  occupied  for  months  by 
Irving,  and  his  armchair  is  still  in  use.  The  tongs  and  shovel, 
and  the  iron  poker  —  Sir  Geoffrey's  Sceptre  —  are  still  there, 
though  the  latter,  having  become  classic,  is  on  exhibition  and 
not  for  use. 

The  town  is  small,  and  is  somewhat  of  a  business  place  at  the 
very  centre ;  but  it  is  mostly  rural,  though  a  few  of  the  streets 
are  paved  and  the  buildings  of  some  consequence.  It  is  situ- 
ated on  the  River  Avon,  a  small  stream,  and  has  a  population  of 
3,833.  It  was  a  place  of  some  consequence  as  early  as  the 
eighth  century. 

It  of  course  derives  its  principal  interest  from  associations  with 
the  great  poet,  born  here,  probably,  April  23,  1564,  and  who  died 
here  on  his  birthday  in  16 16.  The  house  in  which  he  died  was 
torn  down  by  its  proprietor  many  years  ago,  much  to  the  regret 
of  the  inhabitants,  as  well  as  the  visitor ;  but  that  in  which  he 
was  born,  and  lived  for  many  years,  still  stands.  It  is  situated 
on  a  principal  street,  though  in  a  quiet  locality,  and  stands  close 
to  the  sidewalk,  with  no  yard  in  front.  It  is  two  stories  high, 
having  a  pitched  roof,  with  some  breaks  in  it  for  windows  ;  and 
is  now  supposed  to  be  as  in  Shakespeare's  early  days.  It  is  a 
timbered  building,  with  bricks  filling  the  spaces,  plastered  over 
and  painted  a  light-gray  or  steel  color.  Its  extreme  length  on 
the  street  may  be  forty-five  feet.  Like  our  Mount  Vernon,  it  is 
owned  by  an  association,  and  kept  for  the  inspection  of  those  in- 
terested in  places  of  the  kind.  Two  matrons  —  some  sixty-five 
years  of  age,  genial  in  demeanor  and  at  home  in  conversation, 
and  having  the  whole  story  at  their  tongues'  end  —  take  turns 
with  each  other  in  doing  the  agreeable,  which  costs  each 
visitor  a  modest  shilling.  We  are  shown  the  kitchen,  or  living- 
room,  into  which  the  street  door  opens.  It  has  no  furniture 
except  a  chair  or  two  for  the  accomodation  of  visitors.  The 
fireplace  is  still  there,  —  the  worn  hearth  and  the  oak  floor. 
Next  we  see  the  dining-room,  and  the  chamber  in  which  tradi- 
tion says  Shakespeare  was  born.  The  low  ceilings  and  the 
saggy  condition  of  everything  aid  the  imagination  ;  it  is  easy  to 
feel  that  probably  he  was  born  here.  In  an  adjoining  room 
are  collected  many  things  once  owned  by  the  great  bard ; 
letters  written  by  him,  and  other  writings  with  which  he  was 
associated ;  portraits  of  him  by  various  artists.  The  number 
of  daily  visitors  is  large.  After  a  walk  of  ten  minutes  we  are 
at  the  Church  of  the   Holy  Trinity,  a  Gothic  structure,  large 


STRATFORD-ON-AVON.  171 

and  in  thorough  repair.  Situated  in  the  centre  of  a  burial- 
ground,  and  enclosed  with  trees,  it  is  very  long,  and  has  a  tower 
and  lofty  spire.  A  source  of  revenue  to  the  parish  are  Shakes- 
peare's remains.  A  shilling  is  paid,  and  we  enter  on  the  side, 
near  the  west  end,  pass  down  the  nave,  and  come  to  the  holy 
of  holies.  The  chancel  is  perhaps  thirty  feet  long  and  twenty 
feet  deep,  enclosed  by  a  simple  altar  rail  at  the  front.  On 
its  left  end  wall,  some  six  feet  up  from  the  floor,  is  the  cele- 
brated bust  of  the  poet.  It  is  painted,  as  described  by  Briton, 
in  1816  :  — 

The  bust  is  the  size  of  life  ;  it  is  formed  out  of  a  block  of  soft 
stone,  and  was  originally  painted  in  imitation  of  nature.  The 
hands  and  face  were  of  flesh  color,  the  eyes  of  a  light  hazel,  and 
the  hair  and  beard  auburn  ;  the  doublet,  or  coat,  was  scarlet,  and 
covered  with  a  loose  black  gown,  or  tabard,  without  sleeves  ;  the 
upper  part  of  the  cushion  was  green,  the  under  half  crimson,  and 
the  tassels  gilt.  After  remaining  in  this  state  above  one  hundred 
and  twenty  years,  Mr.  John  Ward,  grandfather  to  Mrs.  Siddons 
and  Mr.  Kemble,  caused  it  to  be  repaired  and  the  original  colors  pre- 
served, in  1784,  from  the  profits  of  the  representation  of"  Othello." 

In  1793  Malone  foolishly  caused  it  to  be  painted  white.  In 
his  right  hand  he  holds  a  pen,  and  appears  to  be  in  the  act  of 
writing  on  a  sheet  of  paper  lying  on  the  cushion  in  front  of  him. 
Beneath  is  a  tablet  containing  the  following  inscription.  The 
first  two  lines  in  Latin  are  translated  as  follows  :  — 

In  judgment  a  Nestor,  in  genius  a  Socrates,  in  arts  a  Maro  ; 

The  earth  covers  him,  the  people  mourn  for  him,  Olympus  has  him. 

And  next  are  those  in  English  :  — 

Stay,  passenger,  why  goest  thou  so  fast  ? 
Read,  if  thou  can'st,  whom  envious  death  hath  plast 
Within  this  monument,  —  Shakespeare;   with  whome 
Quick  natvre  dide  ;  whose  name  doth  deck  ys  tombe 
Far  more  than  cost  ;  sieth  all  yt  he  hath  writt, 
Leaves  living  art,  but  page  to  serve  his  witt 
Obiit  ano.  Del  1616;   /Etatis  53,  Die.  23  Ar. 

Near  the  monument,  and  in  the  chancel,  is  a  plain  stone,  be- 
neath which  the  body  lies  buried  ;  and  upon  it  is  the  following 
inscription  said  to  have  been  written  by  the  poet  himself:  — 

Good  frend,  for  Iesvs  sake  forbears 

To    DIGG    1  in-    DVS1    1  •-'  I."  IS  I  I)    HEARS  ; 

Blesete  be  yk.  man  yt.  spares  thes  stones, 
And  CVRST   BE   HE   vr.    MOVES   MY   bones. 


172  ENGLAND. 

In  the  charnel  house  of  this  ancient  church  are  many  human 
bones.  These  Shakespeare  had  doubtless  often  seen,  and  he 
probably  shuddered  at  the  idea  that  his  own  might  be  added  to 
this  promiscuous  heap.  This  thought  seems  to  have  been 
present  when  he  makes  Hamlet  ask  :  "  Did  these  bones  cost  no 
more  i'  the  breeding,  but  to  play  at  loggats  with  them  ?  Mine 
ache  to  think  on't."  This  dislike  perhaps  influenced  him  to 
bestow  a  curse  or  a  blessing,  as  future  authorities  might  disturb 
or  respect  his  remains.  His  wife  lies  beside  him.  On  her 
gravestone  is  a  brass  plate,  with  the  following  inscription  by  an 
unknown  author  :  — 

Heere  lyeth  interred  the  body  of  Anne,  wife 
of  William  Shakespeare,  who  departed  this  life 
the  6th  day  of  avgv  :  1623,  being  of  the  age  of 

67    YEARES. 

There  is  also  a  Latin  verse,  written  by  her  daughter,  and  ren- 
dered into  English  as  follows  :  — 

Thou,  Mother,  hast  afforded  me  thy  paps, — 
Ilast  given  me  milk  and  life  ;  alas  !  for  gifts 
So  great,  I  give  thee  only  stones.     How  would 
I  rather  some  good  Angel  should  remove 
This  stone  from  hence ;  that,  as  Christ's  body  rose, 
So  should  thy  form  !     But  wishes  naught  avail. 
Com'st  thou  soon,  O  Christ !  let  my  imprisoned 
Mother,  from  this  tomb  soar  to  seek  the  star. 

A  brief  outline  of  Shakespeare's  1  life  is  as  follows  :  — 
Tradition  says  that  he  was  born  April  23,  1564.  The  ancient 
parchment  parish  register  —  which  we  were  permitted  to  see  — 
shows  that  he  was  baptized  three  days  after.  At  the  age  of 
nineteen,  an  unusual  proceeding  took  place  in  the  quiet  old 
town,  for  the  authorities  were  asked  to  permit  the  marriage  of 
the  young  man  to  Anne  Hathaway,  and  after  but  one  publica- 
tion of  the  banns,  instead  of  three,  as  was  both  practice  and  law. 
A  bond  signed  by  Fulk  Sandalls  and  John  Rychardson,  for  in- 
demnity to  the  officers  of  the  Bishop  of  Worcester's  ecclesiasti- 
cal court,  —  for  granting  the  questionable  permission  which  they 
did,  and  issuing  the  document,  —  bears  date  Nov.  28,  1582. 

1  There  is  no  uniformity  in  the  spelling  of  this  name.  The  oldest  records  of 
the  family  give  it  as  Shakspere,  In  the  poet's  will  it  is  spelled  Shakspeare, 
and  is  so  signed  by  him.  Whenever  he  and  his  friend  Ben  Jonson  caused  it  to  be 
printed,  they  spelled  it  Shakespeare.  In  this  form  we  find  it  in  almost  every  book 
of  that  period  where  it  appears  at  all.  And  so  we  have  it  on  his  wife's  tombstone. 
The  probabilities  are,  that  the  later  spelling  was  the  one  most  approved  by  the 
poet  himself,  as  giving  more  correctly  the  usual  pronunciation. 


STRATFORD-ON-AVON.  173 

The  marriage  took  place  during  the  Christmas  holidays,  but 
the  exact  day  is  to  this  time  shrouded  in  mystery. 

On  the  26th  day  of  May,  1583,  six  months  after  the  hastened 
marriage  ceremony,  the  parish  register  has  a  record  of  the  bap- 
tism of  his  first  child  Susanna,  and  on  the  2d  day  of  February, 
1585,  of  his  second  daughter. 

It  is  presumed  that  his  first  play,  the  "  First  Part  of  Henry 
VI."  was  brought  out  at  Blackfriars  Theatre,  London,  in  1590. 
while  its  author  was  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven ;  and  it  is  re- 
ported that  he  produced  a  play  once  in  every  six  months  after- 
wards, till  the  completion  of  all  attributed  to  him.  On  the 
burning  of  the  Globe  theatre  of  London,  (Southwark),  which 
was  simply  a  summer  theatre  and  without  a  roof,  he  removed 
back  to  the  town  of  his  nativity  in  161 3,  where  he  died  April  23, 
1 6 16,  on  his  fifty-second  birthday,  and  realizing  his  own  lines, — 

We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep. 

We  have  no  reliable  account  of  the  cause  of  his  comparatively 
early  death  ;  but  the  Rev.  John  Ward,  vicar  of  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  in  1662,  forty-six  years  after  his  death,  writes  as  follows  :  — 

Shakspeare,  Drayton,  and  Ben  Jonson  had  a  merie  meeting, 
and  drank  too  hard ;  for  Shakspeare,  it  seems,  died  of  a  feavour 
there  contracted. 

The  next  object  of  interest  is  the  spot  where  was  born  and  re- 
sided Anne  Hathaway,  the  wife  of  Shakespeare.  This  is  in  a 
cluster  of  farmhouses  called  Shottery,  situated  within  the  parish 
of  Holy  Trinity,  and  about  a  mile  away  from  Shakespeare's 
birthplace.  From  a  gateway  on  the  common  road,  a  circuitous 
lane  continues  half  a  mile  through  gates  or  bars,  then  resolves 
itself  into  a  footpath,  fenced  in  by  light  wirework.  The  houses 
are  of  the  usual  rural  style.  At  last  we  are  at  the  cottage  where, 
three  hundred  years  ago,  the  Shakesperian  courting  was  done. 
It  stands  endwise  to  a  beautiful  road,  but  some  fifty  feet  from 
it,  and  enclosed  by  a  wall.  No  house  in  England  is  more 
picturesque,  either  in  itself,  or  its  surroundings.  It  looks  an- 
cient, though  in  good  repair.  It  is  not  far  from  sixty  feet  long, 
a  story  and  a  half  high,  or  fifteen  feet,  with  a  pitched  roof 
covered  with  thatch.  The  small  upper  windows,  cut  into  the 
eaves,  show  the  thatch  a  foot  and  a  half  thick.  The  building  is 
of  stone,  plastered  and  whitewashed.  It  is  entered  from  the  side, 
and  occupied  seemingly  by  two  or  three  families.     There  are 


174  ENGLAND. 

vines  climbing  over  it,  and  flowers  in  the  long  yard  by  the 
entrance  ;  and  there  is  a  museum  in  the  Anne  Hathaway  part. 

We  have  not  ceased  regretting  that  we  did  not  go  in  there; 
let  the  reader  be  admonished  not  to  go  and  do  likewise. 

Children  were  at  play  in  the  old  road,  as  they  were  three  cen- 
turies ago.  We  had  come  three  thousand  miles  to  look  upon 
what  the\-  hardly  think  of;  but  without  the  right  kind  of  eyes  one 
is  blind.  Another  says,  and  says  well :  "  A  dwarf,  standing  on  a 
giant's  shoulder,  may  see  more  than  the  giant  himself."  There 
may  be  an  undeveloped  —  unevolved,  perhaps  we  should  say  — 
Shakespeare  among  those  boys.  He  was  once  thoughtless  and 
playful  as  they.  Here  Shakespeare  walked  and  thought.  A 
good  road  extended  from  Shottery  Village  to  his  home,  but  the 
short-cut  across  the  fields  alone  would  satisfy  his  mind.  Philoso- 
phy and  poetry  were  at  their  best  in  the  shorter  footpath,  away 
from  the  "  busy  haunts  of  men."  He  could  go  quicker  to  the 
house  he  would  go  to  in  the  early  eve,  and  quicker  also  to  the 
one  to  which  he  must  return  at  the  early  morn  !  So  it  continued, 
until  about  Christmas  of  1582,  when  hope  ended  in  fruition,  and 
Richard  Hathaway's  daughter  became  Anne  Shakespeare,  so 
to  remain  for  forty-one  years  till  1623, — seven  after  her 
William  had  been  gathered  to  his  fathers.  It  is  a  coincidence 
worthy  of  notice,  that  Shakespeare's  mother  also  survived  her 
husband,  John  Shakespeare,  seven  years. 

The  bond  of  indemnity  —  holding  the  magistrates  safe  from 
penalties  that  might  be  imposed  by  the  Bishop  of  Worcester  or 
his  consistory  court  —  was  in  the  sum  of  $200.  The  signature 
of  the  bondsman  bears  the  mark  of  R.  H.,the  initials  of  Richard 
1  lathaway,  the  bride's  father ;  so  he  of  course  approved  the 
proceeding. 

At  8  p.  M.  we  took  cars  for  the  beautiful  town  of 


LEAMINGTON, 

where  we  arrived  after  an  hour's  ride,  and  remained  over  night, 
much  enjoying  our  accommodation  at  the  Avenue  Hotel.  Next 
morning,  after  breakfast,  took  a  stroll  out  over  the  town.  It  is  a 
noted  place  of  aristocratic  resort  for  pleasure,  and  for  its  springs 
—  a  sort  of  cross  between  English  Bath  and  American  Saratoga. 
Everywhere  were  facilities  for  the  enjoyment  of  pleasure  or  health- 
seeking  tourists.  It  would  seem  as  though  one  could  hardly  be 
sick  here.  It  was  in  this  place  that  Sir  Walter  Scott  wrote 
"  Kenilworth,"  and  as  one  breathes  the  exhilarating  air,  he  is 


KENILWORTH.  175 

inclined  to  reduce  the  honors  usually  accorded  to  the  great 
writer,  and  imagine  that  it  is  nothing  strange  that,  with  such  sur- 
roundings, he  wrote  as  he  did.  A  visit  to  Leamington,  and  one 
is  in  the  secret  of  Sir  Walter's  power  when  he  wrote  that  smooth- 
est of  romances. 

Perhaps  we  ought  to  make  a  more  economical  use  of  adjec- 
tives in  describing  the  neatness  of  streets  and  the  beauty  of 
public  and  private  grounds,  for  this  is  the  universal  and  not 
exceptional  condition. 

The  pink  hawthorn  is  in  bloom,  and  such  pansies  as  we 
never  saw  at  home.  Remember,  this  is  May  28.  We  have  not 
anywhere  in  our  travels  seen  Indian  corn  growing,  and  think 
it  is  not  raised.  We  have  seen  no  fields  of  potatoes,  only  small 
patches  for  family  use  ;  and  these  are  six  inches  out  of  the  ground. 
Carrots  and  early  cabbages  are  fully  grown  and  exposed  for 
sale.  We  visited  one  grapery,  where  the  Black  Hamburg  vines 
were  forty  years  old  and  in  good  bearing,  the  grapes  being 
about  the  size  of  peas.  The  vines  were  set  in  the  borders  of 
the  greenhouse,  which  were  two  and  a  half  feet  wide,  and  the 
vines  were  three  and  a  half  feet  apart,  —  the  stocks,  or  trunks, 
being  not  more  than  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter.  On  the 
outside  of  a  small  conservatory  was  a  fine  heliotrope,  one  and  a 
half  inches  in  diameter,  nine  years  old,  which  had  often  been 
well  pruned  and  was  in  profuse  bloom. 

The  town  has  a  population  of  22,730,  and  is  very  pleasantly 
situated  on  the  River  Leam,  a  tributary  of  the  Avon,  and  is  one 
of  the  handsomest  towns  in  England,  and  more  American  in 
appearance  than  any  other  place  we  saw  on  our  journey.  The 
spring  waters  are  saline,  sulphurous,  and  chalybeate.  They  came 
into  use  in  1797,  and  are  visited  constantly  by  the  elite  of  the 
land. 

KENILWORTH. 

"  Kenilworth  Castle  !  "  says  the  reader.  That  and  more  !  The 
station  is  reached  by  a  half-hour's  ride  from  Leamington,  being 
about  five  miles  in  a  direct  line  from  .Stratford,  Leamington,  and 
Coventry.  The  country  is  hilly  and  abounds  with  fertile  fields, 
on  which  are  grazing  sheep,  cows,  and  horses  in  countless  num- 
Everything  has  an  inhabited  look.  Elms,  oaks,  horse- 
chestnuts,  and  poplars  abound.  There  are  fine  groves  that 
might  be  called  woods.  The  town  itself  is  a  small  one  of  4,250 
inhabitants.  It  has  manufat  tuns  of  ribbons,  gauzes,  combs,  and 
chemicals,  and   is  a  market-town,  to  whose  public  square  the 


176  ENGLAND. 

farmers  bring  their  produce,  while  traders,  from  temporary 
stands,  offer  for  sale  all  kinds  of  wares.  For  centuries  these 
market-days  have  been  a  part  of  the  weekly  life  of  the  people. 

There  is  a  very  ancient  church,  and  the  ruins  of  an  abbey, 
founded  in  1122  ;  but  the  great  object  of  interest  is  the  ruins  of 
its  celebrated  castle,  made  so  familiar  by  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
romance.  The  spot  was  reached  by  a  pleasant  walk  of  about  a 
mile  from  the  station.  When  we  had  passed  through  a  well 
shaded  country  road,  —  through  the  woods,  as  we  should  say  in 
America,  —  there  was  presented  to  view  a  most  enchanting  scene. 
Ahead  of  us,  say  five  minutes'  walk,  our  road  seemed  to  terminate 
in  a  gently  rising  plain,  a  miniature  common,  on  which  were  three 
or  four  stone  residences,  partly  public  and  partly  private  in 
appearance.  The  scene  reminded  us  of  a  New  England 
common. 

To  the  left,  bounding  the  road,  was  a  stone  wall ;  from  this, 
gently  sloping,  for  perhaps  two  hundred  feet,  was  a  grazing 
pasture.  At  the  upper  end  of  this  were  the  ruins,  not  of  the  castle 
proper,  but  of  some  of  its  outbuildings.  These  massive  and 
ivy-dressed  ruins  alone  would  have  satisfied  us,  and  we  mistook 
them  for  the  castle  itself,  but  we  went  up  to  the  little  plateau,  and 
round  to  the  left  hand,  to  get  admission  to  the  grounds  ;  for  we 
were  now  somewhat  educated  on  the  ruins  question,  and  believed 
there  was  more  in  waiting  for  us.  Lads  and  lasses,  and  some  very 
old  women,  offered  their  services  and  guide-books.  They  told 
their  story  well,  but  we  told  ours  better.  We  found  the  gate- 
way, paid  our  shillings,  and  decided  to  be  our  own  guides. 

First,  there  was  a  flower  garden,  —  centuries  ago  cultivated  as 
now,  but  then  only  for  the  inmates  of  the  castle.  Here  was  also 
a  museum,  containing  many  articles  once  used  in  the  castle. 
We  did  not  get  up  enthusiasm  enough  to  go  in  ;  and  now 
content  ourselves  by  saying,  "  Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  '  t  is 
folly  to  be  wise."  Beyond  another  gate,  we  find  ourselves  in  a 
closely  cropped  sheep-pasture.  No  lawn  in  our  Boston  suburbs 
equals  this  carpet  of  green,  acres  in  extent.  To  our  left,  five 
hundred  feet  away,  were  the  ruins  observed  before.  We  don't 
discount  this  beauty  even  now,  and  we  never  will.  Put  those 
ruins  in  Brookline  or  Brighton,  and  we  'd  stand  our  ground  even 
with  Englishmen.  But  what  shall  we  say  about  the  ruins  of  the 
castle  itself,  —  there  on  our  right,  two  hundred  feet  away  ? 

This  is  Caesar's  Tower.  Square  in  plan,  the  surface  is  broken 
with  piers  and  vertical  projections  of  varying  width ;  the  top  is 
perhaps  sixty  feet  from  the  ground,  and  made  irregular  by  its 


KENILWORTH.  177 

decay.  It  is  roofless,  of  course,  and  has  walls  sixteen  feet  thick 
at  the  bottom ;  half  the  surface  is  covered  with  dark-leaved  ivy, 
precisely  such  as  is  grown  in  our  houses.  We  go  nearer ;  now 
on  our  right,  two  hundred  feet  on  our  front,  and  left,  leaving  a 
half  enclosed  square,  are  other  portions  of  this  great  castle. 
What  variety  of  outline  !  What  solidity  !  There  are  patches  of 
ivy  fifty  feet  square.  Measuring  a  single  trunk,  conformed  to 
the  crevices  of  the  wall,  we  found  it  to  be  3  feet  10  inches  wide, 
and  16  inches  thick  at  the  centre,  decreasing  to  a  thickness  of 
3  inches  at  the  edges.  We  should  have  been  unable  to  believe 
this  story,  had  it  been  told  by  others,  and  will  not  find  fault  with 
any  one  who  now  doubts  our  accuracy. 

The  castle  was  founded  by  Geoffrey  de  Clinton,  treasurer  to 
Henry  I.;  and  in  1286  it  was  the  place  of  a  great  chivalric 
meeting,  at  which  it  is  said,  "  silks  were  worn  for  the  first  time 
in  England."  The  very  gorgeous  entertainment  given  here  in 
1575,  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  is  immortalized  by  Scott  in  "  Kenil- 
worth."  Of  the  original  castle,  all  now  remaining  is  the  corner 
tower.  All  else,  though  to  all  appearances  as  old  looking,  is  of 
later  date.  The  hall  erected  by  John  of  Gaunt,  who  died  Feb. 
3,  1399,  is  86  feet  long  and  45  wide,  having  mullioned  win- 
dows on  each  side,  and  large  fireplaces  at  each  end. 

The  domain  passed  to  the  crown,  and  was  bestowed  by  Henry 
III.,  who  died  Nov.  16,  1272,  on  Simon  de  Montfort,  Earl  of 
Leicester.  When  he  was  defeated  and  killed,  his  adherents 
held  it  for  six  months,  but  at  length  made  favorable  terms  of 
capitulation.  Edward  II.,  who  was  murdered  Sept.  21,  1327, 
was  a  prisoner  in  it  for  some  time.  It  next  fell  into  the  hands 
of  Edward  III.,  who  died  June  21,  1377.  Then  it  fell  to  John 
of  Gaunt,  who  died  twenty-two  years  afterwards,  when  it  passed 
to  his  son,  Henry  Bolingbroke  (Henry  IV.)  ;  and  on  his  acces- 
sion to  the  throne,  Sept.  30,  1399,  it  became  again  vested  in  the 
<rown,  and  so  remained  until  Queen  Elizabeth  bestowed  it  on 
her  favorite  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester.  She  visited  it  three 
times,  the  last  visit  being  so  graphically  described  by  Sir  Walter. 
It  was  dismantled  and  unroofed  in  the  time  of  Cromwell,  and 
has  never  been  repaired.  At  the  Restoration  it  fell  to  the 
Clarenden  family,  and  is  now  the  property  of  the  family  of 
Eanllcy-W'ilmot. 

The  ruin  is  more  stately  than  most  others,  and  was  built 
on  a  grander  scale.  There  is  no  particle  of  wood  about  it ; 
all  is  enduring  masonry.  The  floors  arc  like  its  lawns,  over- 
grown   with    beautiful    grass,    interspersed    with  wild    flowers. 


178  ENGLAND. 

Birds  build  their  nests  in  the  crevices ;  ivy  hangs  over  it  like 
a  careless  mantle. 

The  residence  of  kings  and  queens,  of  the  bluest  blood  of 
the  land,  and  for  a  period  of  four  hundred  years,  —  could 
the  old  walls  speak,  what  tales  would  they  tell  !  Intrigues, 
amours,  sorrows,  intenser  than  the  peasant  ever  dreamed  of. 
The  rise  and  fall  of  dynasties,  the  advancing  and  receding  of 
the  waves  of  national  life,  were  felt  most  definitely  here,  and 
full  four  centuries  were  employed  in  the  record. 

A  home,  a  prison,  the  Elizabethan  house  of  love,  —  it  is  to- 
day a  marvellous  curiosity-shop  for  the  civilized  world.  Where 
young  royalty  prattled  and  crept,  the  speckled  reptile,  with 
"  a  precious  jewel  in  its  head,"  leaps  and  the  snail  crawls.  The 
curtain  of  two  centuries  drops  its  thick  folds  between  our  age 
and  Kenilworth's  royal  activity. 

COVENTRY. 

We  arrived  here  at  2.45  p.  m.  May  28,  after  a  short  ride  from 
Kenilworth.  Few  places  in  England  are  better  known  in  history 
than  this  quaint  old  town.  It  is  situated  on  the  River  Sher- 
bourne,  and  has  a  population  of  39,470.  The  town  derives 
its  name  from  a  Benedictine  Priory,  founded  in  1044  by  Leofric, 
Lord  of  Mercia,  and  his  Lady  Godiva.  The  cellar  of  the 
old  institution  still  exists,  115  feet  long  and  15  feet  wide. 
No  place  affords  a  better  example  of  an  old  English  town  than 
Coventry.  In  one  section  little  if  any  change  has  been  made, 
and  here  are  timber-and-plaster  houses,  in  streets  so  narrow  that 
the  projecting  upper  stories  are  but  a  few  feet  apart. 

There  are  three  churches,  all  with  high  towers  and  spires ; 
and  they  are  so  located  as  to  form  an  apparent  triangle  when 
seen  from  almost  any  point  of  view,  and  are  seemingly  an  eighth 
of  a  mile  apart.  The  steeple  of  St.  Michael's  is  363  feet  high, 
and  Trinity  is  237  feet.  They  are  of  Gothic  architecture,  and 
two  of  them  elaborately  finished.  There  is  a  free  school,  founded 
in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.  ;  and  St.  Mary's  Hall  was  built  in 
the  fifteenth  century.  It  is  60  feet  long,  30  feet  wide,  and  34 
feet  high,  with  a  curiously  carved  oak  ceiling,  and  has  a  splendid 
colored  window.  It  was  built  by  Trinity  Guild,  and  is  now  used 
for  public  meetings.  As  long  ago  as  the  fifteenth  century  an  active 
trade  was  carried  on  in  caps,  bonnets,  and  camlet-cloth.  These 
have  given  place  to  silks,  fringes,  and  watches,  more  of  the  latter 
being  made  here  than  in  London.     Coventry  was  anciently  de- 


COVENTRY.  179 

fended  by  walls  and  towers ;  but  only  a  small  portion  of  the 
former  and  three  of  the  latter  remain,  the  others  having  been 
destroyed  by  Charles  II.,  on  account  of  the  favors  shown  by  the 
citizens  to  his  enemies.  Twelve  parliaments  were  held  here, 
which  shows  the  ancient  repute  of  the  place.  The  people  were 
noted  for  their  love  of  shows  and  processions.  Religious 
dramas,  called  mysteries,  were  performed  here  as  early  as  141 6, 
and  often  in  the  presence  of  royalty.  Until  the  present  century, 
an  annual  pageant  honored  the  memory  of  Lady  Godiva,  and  is 
even  now  occasionally  revived.  The  story  is,  that  she  obtained 
from  her  husband,  Leofric,  the  remission  of  certain  heavy  taxes, 
of  which  the  citizens  complained,  on  condition  that  she  should 
ride  naked  through  the  streets  at  noonday.  She  ordered  the 
people  to  keep  within  doors,  and  to  close  their  shutters  ;  and 
then,  veiled  by  her  long  flowing  hair,  she  mounted  her  palfrey, 
and  rode  through  the  town  unseen,  —  except  by  an  inquisitive 
tailor.  He  has  been  immortalized  under  the  sobriquet  of 
Peeping  Tom,  and  it  is  said  that  he  was  punished  by  instant 
blindness.  This  is  the  story  on  which  Tennyson  founded  his 
poem.  It  was  first  recorded  by  Matthew  of  Westminster,  in  1307, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  its  supposed  occurrence.  When 
the  pageant  takes  place  now,  a  strikingly  clad  female  is  the  lead- 
ing character.  There  is  a  bust  of  Peeping  Tom  at  the  junction  of 
two  streets,  the  angle  of  which  is  rounded,  three  stories  high,  and 
painted  drab.  From  an  upper-story  window,  without  a  sash, 
the  figure  of  Tom  leans  out  in  an  inquisitive  attitude.  He  is 
painted  in  the  various  colors  of  flesh  and  clothes,  appears  to  be 
about  forty  years  old,  and  wears  a  sort  of  military  cap  and  coat. 
He  has  peeped  out  on  the  main  street  for  centuries,  the  observed 
of  all  observers.  The  spot  is  said  to  be  the  one  from  which  the 
original  Tom  was  so  rash  as  to  look.  We  believe  he  is  yet  a  source 
of  revenue  to  the  stores  in  the  neighborhood,  for  there  are  often 
groups  of  strangers  in  the  vicinity.  To  catch  a  share  of  the 
traffic,  there  are  other  Peeping  Toms.  In  the  venturesome  spirit 
of  the  veritable  Tom,  some  of  these  imitations  are  proclaimed, 
in  painted  placards,  to  -be  the  great  original,  —  "  original  in  that 
place  !  "  somebody  said  ! 

At  9  a.  m.  of  Wednesday  we  left  for 

BIRMINGHAM, 

where  we  arrived  at  1 1  o'clock,  and  found  the  place,  as  we  had 
antif  ipated,  very  smoky  in  atmosphere,  and  largely  inhabited  by 


180  ENGLAND. 

poor  working-people.  High  taxes,  lack  of  education,  and  hard 
usage  keep  the  people  down.  The  public  buildings  and  stores 
are  spacious,  but  our  surroundings  were  uncomfortable  and  we 
made  but  a  three  hours'  stay. 

Birmingham  is  a  city  of  immense  manufactures,  and  may  well 
be  considered  the  great  workshop  of  England.  Here  John  Bull 
everywhere  has  on  his  workshop  paper  cap,  and  shows  the 
brawniest  of  brawny  arms,  and  the  smuttiest  of  smutty  faces. 
A  Birmingham  dry-goods  clerk,  by  reason  of  the  smoky  atmo- 
sphere, is  about  as  untidy  as  an  average  American  mechanic. 

The  city  lies  on  ground  sloping  to  the  River  Rhea,  and  canals 
radiate  to  several  railroads.  It  has  three  parks  :  Adderly.  tri- 
angular in  shape,  opened  in  1856  ;  Calthorpe,  near  the  river,  in 
1857;  and  Ashton,  in  1858.  The  older  portions  are  on  low 
grounds.  The  Town  Hall  is  of  Anglesea  marble,  160  feet  long, 
100  feet  wide,  and  83  feet  high,  and  is  of  Corinthian  architec- 
ture, in  imitation  of  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Stator  at  Rome.  The 
public  hall  is  145  feet  long,  65  feet  wide,  and  65  feet  high, — 
that  is,  30  feet  longer  than  Boston  Music  Hall,  15  feet  narrower, 
and  of  the  same  height.  The  organ  is  one  of  the  most  power- 
ful in  Europe,  and  has  78  stops. 

The  old  church  of  St.  Martin  has  a  massive  tower,  and  a  spire 
210  feet  high.  This  church  contains  monuments  of  the  De 
Berminghams,  the  ancient  lords  of  the  place.  It  has  343,696 
inhabitants,  is  first  mentioned  in  Doomsday  Book  under  the 
name  of  Bermingeham,  and  remained  an  obscure  village  for 
centuries. 

Its  first  impetus  towards  manufactures  was  given  at  the  close 
of  the  last  century,  by  the  introduction  of  the  steam-engine,  — 
especially  by  the  demand  for  muskets  created  by  the  American 
Revolution  and  the  French  wars.  There  are  many  large  facto- 
ries, but  more  than  elsewhere  is  it  customary  for  persons  of 
limited  means  to  carry  on  manufactures  on  a  small  scale.  They 
generally  employ  men  to  work  by  the  piece  and  at  home ;  or, 
where  steam  is  required,  they  hire  rooms  furnished  with  the 
requisite  power. 

In  1865  there  were  724  steam-engines  in  the  place,  with 
9,910  horse-power.  There  were  1,013  smelting  and  casting 
furnaces,  and  20,000  families  were  engaged  in  manufactures. 
The  value  of  hardware  and  cutlery  exported  in  1864  was 
#20,000,000.  There  were  also  exports  of  firearms,  glass,  leather, 
machinery,  iron  and  steel  wire,  plate,  copper,  brass,  zinc,  tin, 
and  coal,  to  the  amount  of  #185,000,000.     History  says  that 


LICHFIELD.  181 

5,000,000  firearms  were  furnished  during  the  Napoleonic  wars  ; 
and  during  the  first  two  years  of  the  Civil  War  in  America, 
1,027,336  were  exported  to  the  United  States.  30,000  wed- 
ding rings  have  in  a  single  year  passed  through  the  assay 
office.  This  city  is  noted  for  its  steel  pens.  At  the  Gillott  estab- 
lishment 500  workmen  are  employed,  and  1,000,000  gross  are 
produced  annually.  The  whole  number  of  pens  made  in  the 
city  is  9,000,000  annually,  and  500  tons  of  steel  are  consumed 
in  their  manufacture.  Every  kind  of  manufacture  in  metals  is 
carried  on  here,  and  to  name  the  items  would  bewilder  us. 
Birmingham  is  the  workshop  of  Great  Britain,  and  we  may  say 
of  the  world,  for  no  other  place  approaches  it  in  the  extent  and 
variety  of  metallic  work.     Our  next  move  was  for 

LICHFIELD. 

We  reached  it  after  an  hour's  ride  from  Birmingham,  arriv- 
ing at  3  p.  m.  Valises  deposited  at  a  very  homelike  chateau, 
not  far  from  the  station,  we  were  out  for  sights.  Through  a 
couple  of  short  and  narrow  streets,  where  the  brick  buildings 
were  painted  in  light  colors,  we  passed  into  an  opening  dignified 
by  the  name  of  Square,  measuring  perhaps  a  hundred  feet  on 
each  side.  On  the  right-hand  corner  is  an  ancient  Gothic 
church.  On  our  left,  making  another  corner,  is  the  house  in 
which,  on  the  18th  of  September,  1709,  was  born  Samuel  John- 
son, the  great  lexicographer,  son  of  "  Michael  Johnson,  book- 
seller and  stationer,  sometime  magistrate  of  Lichfield,"  and  who 
died,  leaving  his  family  in  poverty.  The  house  is  three  stories  in 
height,  with  a  hipped  roof.  It  has  nothing  striking  about  it,  and 
is  forty  feet  or  so  square,  of  stone  or  brick,  plastered  on  the  out- 
side, and  painted  cream-color.  In  the  youth  of  Johnson,  it 
contained  a  store,  but  has  long  since  been  remodelled,  and  the 
store  is  now  the  common  room  of  the  dwelling-house.  The  houses 
about  it  are  closely  built ;  no  yard,  garden,  or  tree  is  in  sight. 

In  front,  in  the  centre  of  the  square,  is  a  statue  of  Johnson,  on 
a  pedestal  much  too  high.  The  statue  is  in  a  sitting  posture, 
and  looks  too  young  for  a  man  who  did  not  come  into  public 
notoriety  until  much  beyond  the  age  represented  by  this  sculp- 
ture. The  unpretentious  birthplace  is  more  interesting  than  the 
monument.  These  streets,  through  which  he  so  main  times 
walked,  —  the  church  in  which  he  so  many  times  attended  wor- 
ship, and  in  which  he  was  baptized,  these  were  too  real  not 
to  make  their  impression.     We  could  see  the  scrofulous  boy  of 


182  ENGLAND. 

ten  years,  with  his  disfigured  face  and  injured  sight  and  hearing, 
his  education  already  begun,  and  he  a  student  of  Latin  at  the 
Lichfield  free  school.  He  was  five  years  there,  then  one  at 
Stourbridge  ;  and  at  the  age  of  sixteen  desired  to  enter  Oxford, 
but  was  prevented  by  poverty.  Going  as  assistant  to  one  more 
fortunate  in  worldly  affairs  than  himself,  at  length,  in  1728,  he 
was  admitted  to  Pembroke,  where,  the  record  says,  "  he  was  dis- 
orderly, but  not  vicious."  He  died  in  London,  Dec.  13,  1784. 
What  incidents  and  great  events  go  to  make  up  his  history  for 
those  intervening  years  !  Wherever  the  English  language  is 
spoken  it  is  influenced  by  his  labors. 

Not  much  antiquity  is  anywhere  apparent  in  Lichfield.  Take 
Johnson  and  the  cathedral  away,  and  there  would  be  nothing  of 
moment,  for  it  has  little  business. 

We  soon  arrive  in  the  vicinity  of  the  cathedral,  and  the  scene 
changes  as  by  magic. 

The  cathedral,  with  its  centre  and  two  western  towers  and 
spires,  is  of  vast  length  and  good  height,  built  of  a  very  red 
sandstone.  It  is  about  an  eighth  of  a  mile  off,  and  well  embow- 
ered with  trees,  with  the  river  between  us  and  them.  The  lower 
portions  of  the  cathedral  are  hid  from  view.  To  the  left,  and 
not  as  far  up,  is  another  group  of  buildings,  among  them  the 
Lichfield  Museum. 

On  the  second  floor  we  find  the  place  in  charge  of  a  matronly 
lady,  who  is  at  home  in  her  work,  and  admirably  fitted  for  the 
position.  We  look  at  old  armor,  at  pictures,  and  relics  "  brought 
over  the  sea  and  from  foreign  parts,"  but  better  remains  behind. 
In  a  glass  case  are  exhibited  things  once  owned  and  handled 
by  the  great  writer  who,  next  to  the  cathedral,  gives  Lichfield  its 
interest  and  renown.  Here  are  his  silver  shoe-buckles,  the  blue 
and  white  pint-mug  from  which  he  drank,  the  favorite  saucer 
on  which  his  wife  Tetty  used  to  put  his  morning  breakfast  bis- 
cuit ;  and  here  also  are  letters  written  by  him.  This  was  one 
of  the  especial  treats  of  our  tour. 

We  found  the  great  cathedral  in  perfect  repair.  A  small  close 
surrounds  it.  with  lawns,  trees,  and  rooks.  After  a  general  look 
at  it  we  take  a  turn  along  the  river,  and  off  to  the  rear  and  right 
of  the  cathedral,  to  walk  around  the  promenade  enclosing,  like 
Chestnut  Hill,  the  city  reservoir. 

Encircling  the  water,  we  come  upon  an  exquisite  little  Gothic 
church  and  burial-ground.  The  area  of  the  reservoir  and  its 
avenues  is  perhaps  fifty  acres, — the  size  of  Boston  Common, 
—  and  as  one  stands  on  the  rear  avenue,  facing  the  town,  the 


LICHFIELD.  183 

scene  is  most  enchanting.  The  place  is  surrounded  by  a  mixed 
landscape,  in  which  fine  trees  abound ;  at  the  extreme  left  is 
the  village,  seen  partially  through  the  trees.  On  the  right  is  the 
cathedral,  nearly  hid  by  the  trees.  Along  the  entire  line  are 
fields,  gardens,  and  mansion-houses ;  and,  behind  all,  are  high 
lands,  extending  towards  us,  and  around  back  of  the  little  gem  of 
a  church.  Behind  us  are  aristocratic  residences  with  intensely 
rural  surroundings.  On  to  our  left,  and  behind,  is  the  venerable 
St.  John's  Church,  whose  bell  is  plaintively  tolling  for  evening 
prayers.  From  this  to  the  town  are  brick  buildings,  and  homes 
with  their  little  gardens.  When  other  scenes  are  forgotten,  this 
evening  in  Lichfield  will  be  as  charming  as  now.  Johnson  would 
have  been  even  more  uncouth,  but  for  the  good  influence  of 
scenes  like  this ;  and  his  early  removal  hence  deprived  him 
of  visions  of  daily  and  educating  beauty. 

In  these  churches  —  in  St.  Michael's  near  his  home  • —  he 
worshipped,  and  seeds  were  planted  which  in  after  life  bore  their 
pious  fruit.  He  was  not  wholly  rough  in  nature,  nor  entirely  given 
to  a  love  of  literary  gossip  and  coffee-house  ease.  Not  solely 
inclined  to  entertainment  by  Garrick  or  Boswell,  he  loved  the 
clergy  as  well,  for  he  was  a  deeply  religious  man  in  his  own  way. 

The  cathedral  is  400  feet  long,  187  feet  wide  at  the  transepts, 
and  has  three  spires,  —  the  central  353  feet  high,  and  the  others, 
at  the  west  end,  183  feet  each.  The  western  front  is  the  best 
in  England.  No  cathedral  suffered  more,  in  the  destruction  of 
its  monuments  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  than  this.  With 
the  exception  of  the  stone  effigies  of  two  prelates,  and  a  few 
others  of  less  importance,  all  were  destroyed.  There  are,  how- 
ever, monuments  of  later  date.  One  of  the  most  noted  is  that 
to  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  —  a  figure  in  marble,  with  an 
inscription  recording  her  agency  in  introducing  into  England 
inoculation  for  smallpox.  She  was  a  native  of  Lichfield,  and 
Dr.  Smollett  says  :  "  Her  letters  will  be  an  important  monument 
to  her  memory,  and  will  show,  as  long  as  the  English  language 
endures,  the  sprightliness  of  her  wit,  the  solidity  of  her  judgment, 
and  the  excellence  of  her  real  character." 

The  bust  of  I)r.  Johnson  was  placed  in  the  cathedral,  as  the 
ins  ription  states,  as  "a  tribute  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  a 
man  of  extensive  learning,  a  distinguished  moral  writer,  and 
a  sincere  Christian."  Niear  by  is  a  cenotaph  erected  by  Mrs. 
Garrick  to  the  memory  of  her  husband,  the  eminent  dramatist 
ami  a<  tor,  who  was  the  pupil  and  friend  of  Johnson,  and  died  at 
London,  Jan.  20,  1779. 


184  ENGLAND. 

The  bishops  of  this  cathedral  have  been  men  of  especial  note. 
Among  them  may  be  named  Bishop  Schrope,  who  was  trans- 
lated from  this  See  to  that  of  York,  and  was  celebrated  for  his 
resistance  to  the  usurpations  of  Henry  IV.,  in  consequence 
of  which  he  was  beheaded  in  1405,  and  was  long  revered  as  a 
martyr. 

Rowland  Lee  was  appointed  bishop  of  Lichfield  in  1534. 
He  solemnized  the  marriage  of  Henry  VIII.  with  Anne  Boleyn, 
in  the  nunnery  of  Sopewell,  near  St.  Alban's.  During  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  reformed  religion  he  was  mortified  to  see  his 
cathedral  at  Coventry  entirely  destroyed,  notwithstanding  his 
earnest  endeavors  to  save  it. 

Ralph  Bayne  was  one  of  the  foremost  persecutors  of  Queen 
Mary's  reign,  and  caused  women  to  be  burnt  at  the  stake.  On 
the  accession  of  Elizabeth  to  the  throne,  he  refused  to  adminis- 
ter the  sacrament  to  her,  for  which  refusal  an  act  of  parliament 
deprived  him  of  his  See. 

William  Lloyd  was  one  of  the  seven  bishops  committed  to  the 
Tower  by  James  II.,  for  refusing  to  read  the  Declaration  of 
Liberty  of  Conscience,  as  it  was  called  ;  although  the  real  in- 
tention of  it  was  to  undermine  the  Protestant  religion,  and  to  set 
up  popery  again  in  its  place. 

John  Hough,  who  was  made  bishop  of  this  See  in  1699,  was, 
at  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  Master  of  Magdalen  College  at 
Oxford,  and  in  like  manner  resisted  the  royal  order.  He  was 
elected  head  of  the  college  against  the  king's  will,  and  so  was 
forcibly  ejected  by  the  commissioners ;  but  he  was  restored  the 
next  year. 

One  of  the  most  memorable  of  all  the  bishops  is  Hackett, 
who  came  here  in  1661.  It  was  he  who  did  so  much  in  the 
way  of  restorations,  after  the  destructive  work  of  Cromwell,  who 
dealt  roughly  with  the  Lichfield  Cathedral.  All  churches,  as  well 
as  abbeys,  monasteries,  and  priories,  were  Roman  Catholic  insti- 
tutions, and  they  suffered  greatly  in  the  suppression  of  papal 
worship.  Statuary  was  destroyed,  no  matter  what  its  value. 
Pictures  and  frescoes  were  defaced,  altars  torn  down,  and  every- 
thing reduced  to  Cromwell's  ideas  of  a  Protestant  level.  This 
involved  the  destruction  of  a  vast  number  of  shrines  and  monu- 
ments, those  of  bishops  and  prelates  suffering  especial  desecra- 
tion. The  iconoclasm  was  thorough. .  Roofs  were  taken  off, 
buildings  dismantled,  and  their  rebuilding  or  occupancy  prohib- 
ited under  severe  penalties.  This  accounts  for  the  many  fine 
ruins   in  Great  Britain ;    Melrose  Abbey,  Furness  Abbey,  and 


LICHFIELD.  185 

a  thousand  others,  are  now  in  decay  in  consequence  of  these 
desecrations. 

We  deplore  the  loss  of  works  of  art  and  antiquity,  but  we 
must  not  judge  from  a  nineteenth-century  and  American  stand- 
point. Had  papist  institutions  been  left  where  for  centuries 
they  had  been  entrenched,  Protestantism  could  have  made  little 
headway.  People  of  low  intellect,  with  its  accompanying  igno- 
rance and  superstition,  are  best  reached  through  the  senses. 
Pageants,  images,  pictures,  devout  genuflections,  were  powerful 
then  as  now.  The  authorities  of  the  Roman  Church  knew  this 
as  they  now  know  it.  The  new  Protestant  government  of  Eng- 
land realized  that  these  religious  emblems  were  great  obstacles 
in  its  way,  and  was  uncompromising  in  their  extermination.  The 
next  generation,  coming  up  under  a  new  administration,  was 
more  tractable.  This  was  unavoidable,  if  the  rulers  would  pre- 
vent friction  in  the  new  machinery.  Let  us  not  speak  ill  of  the 
bridge  that  carried  freedom  and  toleration  safely  over. 

This  cathedral  was  for  various  causes  an  object  of  hostility. 
The  adjacent  green  was  fortified,  and  was  alternately  in  posses- 
sion of  each  party ;  and  of  course  the  cathedral  suffered  the 
injuries  of  a  constant  siege.  History  has  it  that  two  thousand 
cannon-shot  and  fifteen  hundred  hand-grenades  were  discharged 
against  it.  The  central  spire  was  battered  down,  and  the  others 
shared  nearly  the  same  fate.  The  statuary  of  the  west  front, 
around  these  towers,  was  shattered ;  the  painted  windows  were 
broken  ;  the  monuments  were  mutilated  ;  and  the  mural  stones 
were  stripped  of  their  brasses.     Dugdale  says  :  — 

It  was  greatly  profaned  by  Cromwell's  soldiers,  who  hunted  a  cat 
everyday  in  it  with  hounds,  and  delighted  themselves  with  the  echo 
of  their  sport  along  the  vaulted  roofs.  Nor  was  this  all;  they  pro- 
faned it  still  further  by  bringing  a  calf  into  it,  wrapt  in  linen, 
which  they  carried  to  the  font,  and  there  sprinkled  it  with  water, 
and  gave  it  a  name  in  scorn  and  derision  of  the  holy  sacrament. 

When  Bishop  Hackett  was  appointed  to  the  See  in  1661  he 
found  the  cathedral  in  this  hopeless  confusion  ;  but.  in  spite  of 
such  discouraging  conditions,  on  the  very  morning  after  his 
arrival  he  prepared  for  improvements.  With  laudable  zeal  he 
'I  his  servants  early,  set  his  coach-horses,  with  trams  and 
laborers,  to  removing  the  rubbish,  and  himself  laid  the  first  hand 
to  the  work.  A  subscription  soon  amounted  to  $45,000,  of 
which  the  bishop  contributed  $10,000.  The  dean  and  chapter- 
contributed  a  like  sum;  and  the  remainder  was  raised  by  the 


186  ENGLAND. 

bishop,  who  solicited  aid  from  every  nobleman  and  gentleman 
in  the  diocese,  and  of  almost  every  stranger  who  visited  the 
cathedral.  He  obtained  from  Charles  II.  a  grant  of  one  hun- 
dred timber- trees  out  of  Needwood  Forest,  and  in  eight  years 
saw  his  cathedral  perfectly  restored.  With  joy  and  great  solem- 
nity it  was  re-consecrated  Dec.  24,  1669. 

The  next  year  Bishop  Hackett  contracted  for  six  bells,  only 
one  of  which  was  hung  in  his  lifetime.  His  biographer  Plume 
says  :  — 

During  his  last  illness  he  went  out  of  his  bed-chamber  into  the 
next  room  to  hear  it  ;  seemed  well  pleased  with  the  sound,  blessed 
God  who  had  favored  him  in  life  to  hear  it,  and  observed  at  the 
same  time  that  it  was  his  "own  passing-bell."  He  then  retired  to 
his  chamber,  and  never  left  it  again  till  he  was  carried  to  his  grave. 

That  bell  still  sounds  from  the  tower.  The  same  decorations 
present  themselves,  and  by  these  the  good  bishop  yet  speaketh. 
Unfortunate  are  the  visitors  who,  amid  scenes  and  sounds  like 
these,  having  eyes,  see  not,  and  having  ears,  do  not  hear. 

The  war  history  of  one  cathedral  is  the  history  of  all,  for  each 
was  desecrated,  and  each  has  had* some  Bishop  Hackett ;  though 
not  every  restorer  was  as  capable  as  he  in  purse  and  brain. 
Restorations  were  everywhere  begun,  and  in  many  instances  the 
new  work  exceeded  the  old ;  but  superstition  and  ignorance 
were  common  even  among  the  high  clergy,  and  oppression  ac- 
companied their  daily  life,  as  it  did  that  of  our  New  England 
ancestry. 

At  10.20  a.  m.  of  Thursday,  May  30,  we  left  for  that  peculiarly 
named  town,  Stoke-upon-Trent. 


STOKE-UPON-TRENT.  187 


CHAPTER  XI. 

STOKE-UPON-TRENT  —  STAFFORDSHIRE  —  MANCHESTER  — 
LEEDS CARLISLE. 

WE  arrived  at  Stoke-upon-Trent  at  noon.  Our  valises 
deposited  at  the  coat-room  of  the  station,  we  sallied 
out  for  a  restaurant  dinner  and  a  visit  to  the  pottery 
of  the  Mintons.  There  are  many  places  of  crockery  manufac- 
ture here,  all  having  a  dingy  look  ;  most  of  them  are  of  brick 
or  stone,  and  two  or  three  stories  high.  The  buildings  are  not 
large,  but  each  establishment  has  several,  with  chimneys  forty 
to  sixty  feet  high,  tapering  largely  as  they  rise.  The  great- 
est facilities  are  furnished  for  visiting  the  works.  We  greatly 
enjoyed  our  visit,  and  theoretically  know  just  how  it  is  done  ; 
yet  we  could  n't  excel  practically  the  youngest  apprentice.  It 
is  hardly  in  order  to  give  lessons,  but  some  information  may  be 
worth  a  passing  word. 

The  clay  is  uncommon  and  found  in  but  few  places.  It  has 
also  to  be  peculiarly  prepared.  When  ready  to  be  moulded 
it  looks  very  much  like  putty  or  wheaten  dough.  The  dish 
is  made  in  the  usual  manner,  on  the  potter's  wheel,  or  on  a 
mould.  It  is  partially  dried  and  then  baked  in  a  great  oven, 
from  which  it  comes  out  white  as  chalk.  If  it  is  to  be  white  and 
undecorated,  it  is  then  dipped  into  a  tank  of  liquid  sizing,  in 
appearance  like  dirty  milk.  It  drips  off,  and  is  then  put  again 
into  an  oven  and  subjected  to  intense  heat.  The  sizing  melts 
or  vitrifies,  and  turns  into  glazing.  The  oven  cools  off  slowly, 
and  the  ware  is  taken  out  glossy  and  ready  for  sale. 

If  the  dish  is  to  be  ornamented,  the  figures  are  put  on  with 
a  stencil-plate,  or  printed  on  the  white  ware  after  the  first  baking 
and  before  the  glazing.  Of  course  any  desired  color  can  be 
rubbed  over  the  stencil.  If  the  ware  is  to  be  printed,  this  is 
done  with  a  soft  roller,  whi<  h  takes  its  tint  and  impression  from 
ip.  This  roller  is  passed  over  the  stamp  as  a  similar  arti- 
cle is  rolled  over  printcr'.s  type  ;   only  the  figure  is  imprinted  on 


188  ENGLAND. 

the  pottery,  not  with  the  stamp  or  type  itself,  but  with  the  roller, 
from  whose  soft  surface  the  figure  is  readily  absorbed  by  the 
moist  clay.  After  this  the  ware  is  dipped  into  sizing  and  finished 
as  before  described.  If  the  ware  is  to  be  rudely  ornamented 
with  flowers,  these  are  often  painted  on  it  by  hand,  after  the  first 
baking,  women  and  girls  being  employed  for  the  purpose.  Of 
course  glazing  and  burning  must  always  follow  the  decoration. 
If  colored  stripes  are  desired,  these  also  are  put  on  by  hand.  If 
ware  is  to  be  elegantly  adorned,  with  pictures  of  flowers,  ani- 
mals, or  landscapes,  —  in  a  word,  Sevres  or  Worcester  ware, — this 
also  is  done  by  the  patient  hand-labor  at  the  benches.  A  hun- 
dred women  are  sometimes  at  work  in  a  single  room,  as  if  they 
were  making  water-color  drawings.  If  gold  lines  are  to  be  put 
on,  this  is  done  with  gold  paint.  It  is  black  when  it  comes  from 
the  furnace,  but  is  then  rubbed  down  with  cornelian  burnishers 
and  the  gold  color  restored.  China  is  no  more  nor  less  than 
thin  ware  made  of  a  peculiar  clay.  Of  the  secrets  of  coloring 
we  know  nothing.  Hundreds  of  years  have  been  employed  in 
experimenting  on  the  minor  details  ;  and  with  all  their  generous 
entertainment  of  strangers,  and  perhaps  of  angels  unawares,  — 
not  being  sure  the  visitor  is  not  a  fallen  one,  and  so  inclined  to 
abuse  the  information,  —  the  artisans  are  not  free  to  impart 
information  which  seems  small,  but  is  really  of  the  utmost 
importance. 

The  town  is  situated  on  the  River  Trent,  as  its  name  implies, 
and  the  entire  parish,  including  Stanley  and  many  other  suburbs, 
has  a  population  of  89,262.  It  has  numerous  wharves  and 
warehouses,  and  is  intersected  by  the  great  Trent  canal  and  the 
Staffordshire  railway.  It  has  the  honor  of  being  the  birth- 
place of  Rev.  John  Lightfoot,  the  celebrated  ecclesiastical 
writer  and  Hebrew  scholar.  He  was  born  here  March  29, 
1602,  and  died  at  Ely,  where  he  was  prebend  at  the  cathedral, 
Dec.  6,  1675.  ri'ne  town  receives  its  notoriety  solely  from  its 
potteries. 

Our  second  visit  was  to  the  warerooms  of  Minturn  &  Hollins, 
who  are  celebrated,  as  are  the  original  Minturns,  for  the  elegance 
of  their  work,  which  is  well  known  in  America  as  well  as  Europe. 
Their  display  was  wonderful  for  fineness  of  execution  and  exqui- 
site coloring. 

Our  notebook,  as  well  as  our  vivid  recollection,  defines  it  as 
"  an  inexpressibly  smoky  place,  with  hundred  of  chimneys,  in 
groups  of  from  ten  to  twenty,  belching  forth  thick  and  black 
smoke." 


STAFFORDSHIRE.  189 

At  4  p.  M.  we  took  a  train  for  another  great  workshop,  and  on 
our  way  must  needs  go  through,  not  Samaria,  but  Staffordshire, 
which  is  one  of  the  best  examples  of  a  smoke  district;  and  — 
like  Niagara  in  this  —  that  one  is  enough  for  a  world. 


STAFFORDSHIRE. 

In  this  region  the  smelting  and  manufacture  of  iron  abounds. 
Hundreds  of  chimneys,  large  and  small,  single  and  in  groups, 
begin  to  meet  the  view  as  soon  as  we  are  fairly  out  of  Stoke 
Village.  Everywhere  the  air  is  permeated  with  dense  though 
by  no  means  very  disagreeable  smoke  ;  that  is,  it  did  not  pro- 
duce half  the  ill  effect  on  the  eyes  or  the  body  that  it  did  on  the 
shirt  bosoms  and  the  mind. 

The  vast  extent  of  the  domain  astonished  us.  As  we  merged 
into  the  thicker  part,  the  sun  was  entirely  obscured,  the  people 
were  weird-like,  and  all  things  wore  a  smoky  aspect.  Condensed 
masses  of  smoke  hung  like  thunder-clouds,  and  they  were  lighted 
up  by  the  glare  that  issued  Pandemonium-like  from  a  hundred 
chimney-tops.  In  the  dimness  below,  the  men  at  the  blast- 
furnaces, handling  red-hot  rods,  or  pouring  molten  iron  into 
moulds,  seemed  like  so  many  imps,  and  we  had  a  vivid  repre- 
sentation of  the  other  place,  that  was  talked  of  a  hundred  years 
ago.  We  were  glad  of  the  experience,  for  it  was  unlike  any- 
thing seen  before,  or  likely  to  be  seen  again ;  but  how  we 
enjoyed  a  change  to  clear  atmosphere  and  a  blue  sky,  and  how 
increased  was  our  ability  to  enjoy  the 

"  Sweet  fields  of  living  green, 
And  rivers  of  delight," 

by  which  the  swift  train  presently  hustled  us  ! 

We  need  not  say  that  bituminous  and  not  anthracite  coal  is 
used  in  England.  It  burns  with  a  brilliant  red  flame,  and  its 
smoke  is  either  black,  gray,  or  white.  It  is  found  in  great  pro- 
fusion (as  hard  coal  is  in  our  Pennsylvania)  in  the  same  regions 
with  iron  ore. 

It  is  as  common  to  see  coal-mine  openings  —  their  cheap 
houses  over  them,  and  their  railways, — as  to  see  iron  mines. 
No  manufacturing  region  would  seem  complete  without  them. 
It  is  providential  that  these  two  useful  minerals,  coal  and  iron, 
are  found  together,  and  so  conveniently  near  the  geographical 


190  ENGLAND. 

centre  of  Great  Britain  as  to  make  them  accessible  to  each 
section  of  the  island. 

We  are  at  our  journey's  end,  in 

MANCHESTER, 

after  the  ride  of  less  than  two  hours.  It  was  not  our  intention 
to  remain  here  long,  and  our  first  view  of  the  place  confirmed 
the  wisdom  of  our  decision.  It  is  a  large  city,  smoky  from  the 
thousands  of  manufactories,  with  nothing  antique  to  be  seen. 
Our  older  western  cities,  like  Cincinnati,  much  resemble  Man- 
chester. Our  stay  was  occupied  principally  with  an  observant 
walk  of  some  miles  through  the  principal  avenues  and  among 
the  manufactories.  There  are  grand  buildings,  but  the  general 
smoky  outlook  prevails.  Manchester  is  situated  on  both  sides 
of  the  River  Irwell,  and  has  a  suburb  called  Salford.  The  city 
proper  has  a  population  of  351,189,  and  the  latter  124,801, — 
475,990  in  all.  There  are  two  municipal  governments,  but  the 
two  cities  are  practically  one,  being  united  by  eight  bridges. 

This  spot  was  a  chief  station  of  the  Druids,  who  here  had  an 
altar  called  Meyne.  In  a.  d.  500  it  was  an  unfrequented  wood- 
land. In  620  it  was  taken  by  Edwin,  king  of  Northumbria,  and 
soon  after  was  occupied  by  a  company  of  Angles.  It  next 
passed  to  the  Danes,  who  were  expelled  about  920,  by  the  king 
of  Mercia.  A  charter,  giving  it  the  privilege  of  a  borough,  was 
granted  in  1301. 

The  first  mention  of  Manchester  cotton  was  in  1352,  and 
designated  coarse  woollen  cloth,  made  from  unprepared  fleece. 
At  the  time  of  the  Civil  Wars  it  had  become  a  place  of  active 
industry,  and  suffered  much  from  both  parties.  In  1650  its 
manufactures  had  wonderfully  increased,  and  ranked  among  the 
first  in  extent  and  importance  ;  and  its  people  were  described  as 
the  most  industrious  in  the  northern  part  of  the  kingdom. 

The  value  of  cotton  exports,  as  early  as  1 780,  was  $1,775,300  ; 
in  1856  it  was  $190,000,000;  and  in  1862  more  than  one  half 
the  operatives  were  thrown  out  of  employment  in  consequence 
of  the  American  Civil  War,  which  deprived  Manchester  of  the 
raw  material.  In  1871  there  were  connected  with  the  cotton 
and  woollen  manufactures  322  factories,  employing  33,671  per- 
sons, and  using  21,000  horse-power  of  steam.  In  the  manufac- 
ture of  metal  goods,  glass,  chemicals,  and  leather,  there  were  467 
manufactories,  14,895  work-people,  and  3,996  horse-power.    The 


LEEDS.  191 

mechanical  list,  including  builders,  and  cabinet-makers,  involved 
2,783  shops  and  73,235  employees,  using  28,515  horse-power. 

The  Royal  Exchange,  commenced  in  1868  and  just  com- 
pleted, is  one  of  the  finest  structures  in  Great  Britain,  costing 
$1,250,000.  Hospitals  and  charitable  institutions  are  plentiful. 
The  schools  are  of  a  high  grade,  and  the  city  is  one  of  the  most 
enterprising  in  England. 

At  10.20  a.  m.,  Friday,  we  left  for  Leeds.  These  three  places, 
Birmingham,  Manchester,  and  Leeds,  are  an  epitome  of  English 
manufactures,  and  we  can  hardly  pass  without  examining  them, 
though  we  confess  to  a  daintiness  obtained  from  the  beauties 
amidst  which  we  had  been  passing  the  weeks  ;  and  we  feel  that 
we  shall  be  glad  when  our  tour  through  the  manufacturing  dis- 
tricts ends,  for  we  are  impressed  anew  with  the  proverb,  "  God 
made  the  country,  but  man  made  the  town." 

LEEDS 

is  situated  on  both  sides,  but  chiefly  on  the  left  side,  of  the  River 
Aire,  and  has  a  population  of  259,212.  The  site  was  once  a 
Roman  station,  and  the  mediaeval  name  was  Loidis.  As  a  man- 
ufacturing town  it  dates  back  to  the  sixteenth  century.  The 
larger  part  of  the  city  has  an  old  look.  The  streets  generally 
are  narrow  and  crooked,  but  well  kept.  The  new  streets  are 
wide  and  contain  many  fine  buildings  ;  and  the  tramways  and 
omnibuses  give  it  a  Bostonian  appearance.  The  spacious  town- 
hall  was  completed  in  1858.  Like  all  the  principal  English 
cities,  it  has  its  share  of  statues,  and  a  fine  one  of  Robert 
Peel  is  in  front  of  the  court-house.  It  is  said  to  have  225 
places  of  public  worship.  In  woollen  manufactures  and  leather- 
tanning  Leeds  surpasses  all  other  places  in  the  kingdom.  1 2,000 
persons  are  employed  in  manufacturing  woollen  goods  alone. 
The  city  is  a  railroad  centre.  There  are  200  collieries  in  the 
surrounding  district.  It  is  reported  that  one  quarter  of  the  in- 
habitants are  engaged  in  manufactures  of  some  kind,  and  yel 
pauperism  flourishes  fearfully.  There  is  a  library  founded  in 
1768,  by  the  renowned  Dr.  Priestley,  of  scientific  as  well  as 
theologic  fame.  He  was  pastor  of  a  church  in  Leeds,  and  gave 
much  attention  to  religious  subjects.  After  an  industrious  life 
of  some  years  here,  —  a  large  portion  of  which  was  employed  in 
scientific  pursuits  and  authorship,  —  he  removed  to  Binning* 
ham,  and  was  pastor  of  a  «  burch  there.  At  length  he  went  to 
America,  arriving  in   New  York,  June  4,   1794,  and  dying  at 


192  ENGLAND. 

Northumberland,  Pa.,  Feb.  6,  1804.  A  celebration,  in  honor 
of  his  discovery  of  oxygen,  was  inaugurated  by  American  chem- 
ists at  the  place  of  his  death,  Aug.  1,  1874,  and  on  the  same  day 
his  statue  was  unveiled  in  Birmingham,  England.  In  i860  an- 
other statue  was  placed  in  the  museum  of  Oxford  University. 
A  catalogue  of  his  publications,  prepared  for  the  library  of  Con- 
gress, for  the  Centennial  of  1876,  comprises  more  than  three 
hundred  works  on  chemistry,  history,  theology,  metaphysics, 
politics,  and  other  subjects. 

The  markets  of  Leeds  are  large.  New  potatoes,  May  31,  were 
for  sale,  smaller  than  English  walnuts.  The  fish  markets  are 
supplied  with  more  varieties  than  we  have  seen  anywhere  else. 
The  flower  marts  have  great  displays  of  perfect  plants,  especially 
pelargoniums  and  geraniums. 

Kirkstall  Abbey  is  about  three  miles  away,  on  the  edge  of  the 
city.  Nothing  can  excel  the  beauty  of  this  ancient  place.  It 
is  situated  near  a  country  road,  and  slopes  to  the  river  a  distance 
of  perhaps  a  thousand  feet.  The  walls  are  varied  in  outlines  and 
heights.  The  tower  and  walls  are  quite  complete,  and  the  ad- 
joining ruins  are  as  fine  as  any  in  England.  They  comprise 
many  rooms,  roofless  for  centuries.  The  low-cropped  grass, 
with  its  thick  math,  fills  them,  and  there  are  ten  or  twelve  elm- 
trees,  full  two  feet  in  diameter,  growing  in  the  deserted  apart- 
ments. In  one  part  is  the  small  enclosed  garden,  perfect  as  at 
the  first.  In  the  walls  are  places  of  burial  of  the  pietists  who 
once  dwelt  here  ;  and  on  one  side  are  rooms,  opening  into  the 
garden,  that  once  were  monks'  cells  and  their  later  place  of 
sepulture.  There  are  many  stone  coffins  ;  and  the  apartments 
and  the  close,  with  the  ivy- mantled  walls,  are  of  extreme  beauty. 
The  position  is  remarkably  fine.  Removed  from  other  habita- 
tions ;  quietly  situated  at  the  side  of  the  great  road,  and  on  this 
meadow-like  lawn  ;  the  river  running  leisurely  by,  washing  the 
borders  ;  the  old  trees  ;  its  ingenuity  of  arrangement,  —  this  gem 
is  a  connecting  link  between  the  old  dispensation  and  the  new. 
We  could  but  wish  we  might  do  as  Scott  advises  of  Melrose 
Abbey,  "  visit  it  by  the  pale  moonlight ; "  but  we  did  not  have 
that  privilege.  We  could  only  see  it  at  the  close  of  this  fine 
day,  when  the  low  sun  sent  its  rays  aslant  the  openings,  and  gave 
an  indescribable  tranquillity  to  the  place. 

This  is  one  of  the  few  spots  we  would  again  make  an  effort 
to  see.  As  the  lamented  Bayard  Taylor  was  lured  from  his 
course  of  travel  by  Longfellow's  "  Belfry  of  Bruges,"  and  could 
not  rest  till  he  had  been  there,  so  this  Kirkstall  Abbey  influ- 


CARLISLE.  193 

ences  us,  and  will  till  the  end  of  earthly  journeys.  Built  in 
1 157,  in  the  Reformation  it  was  abandoned  and  unroofed,  its 
relics  destroyed,  its  tombs  rifled,  and  ruin  begun ;  and  now  for 
more  than  three  hundred  years,  as  if  subservient  to  the  will  of 
Cromwell,  and  mute  with  alarm  and  solitary  in  its  shame,  it  has 
stood  beautiful  and  enduring,  though  dying  atom  by  atom  in  its 
own  loneliness. 

On  Saturday,  June  1,  a  pleasant  day,  though  so  cool  that 
overcoats  were  still  comfortable,  we  took  train  for 

CARLISLE. 

This  is  another  cathedral  town,  and  the  last  in  England  we 
are  to  visit  till  we  have  passed  through  Scotland.  We  have 
journeyed  from  London  northerly  to  Oxford ;  then,  northwest- 
erly to  the  manufacturing  towns ;  and  now  we  are  to  go  from 
Carlisle  to  Glasgow,  and  we  expect  to  see  London  again  in  a 
couple  of  weeks  after.  The  places  are  most  of  them  but  a  few 
hours'  ride  apart.  The  trip  is  quite  like  one  from  Boston, 
through  Worcester,  Springfield,  Albany,  to  our  western  cities, 
and  then  southerly,  via  Washington  and  Philadelphia  and  New 
York,  to  Boston,  and  as  easily  performed.  We  arrived  at  2  p.  m., 
and  were  fortunate  in  making  our  visit  on  a  market-day,  when 
the  place  was  full  of  people  ;  for  here  was  an  opportunity  to  see 
an  English  market-day  at  its  best.  On  hundreds  of  tables,  and 
in  stalls  and  booths,  every  conceivable  kind  of  domestic  article 
was  displayed  for  sale,  —  crockery,  tinware,  dry-goods  (such  as 
White  or  Jordan  &  Marsh  never  have  for  sale),  new  and  second- 
hand clothing,  hardware,  provisions  of  all  kinds  ;  and  a  happier 
set  of  people  we  had  not  seen.  Both  buyer  and  seller  were  in 
fine  mood,  and  good  cheer  prevailed.  These  market-days  are 
a  part  of  the  common  life  of  the  people,  and  to  abolish  them 
would  be  taken  as  one  more  sign  of  the  near  approach  of  the 
final  consummation  of  all  things. 

The  city  is  situated  on  the  River  Eden,  and  is  a  grand  old 
place  with  good  buildings  and  streets,  all  replete  with  fine  speci- 
mens of  English  people  and  life.  It  is  one  of  the  very  oldest  in 
England  and  was  a  Roman  station.  Its  proximity  to  the  border 
made  it  an  important  place  at  the  time  of  the  wars  between  the 
English  and  the  Scotch. 

The  cathedral  is  situated  not  far  from  the  centre  of  business, 
and  the  iron  fence  on  one  side  of  its  grounds  marks  the  bounds 
of  an  important  thoroughfare.     The  ground  is  not  large  —  per- 

13 


194  ENGLAND. 

haps  an  acre  in  extent  —  and  is  well  kept.  The  cathedral  itself 
was  originally  an  important  building,  but  is  not  now  remarkable 
for  size  or  beauty.  Cromwell  destroyed  the  greater  part  of 
the  nave.  The  building  is  only  137  feet  long,  but  it  is  124  feet 
wide  at  the  transepts,  and  the  height  is  75  feet  from  floor  to 
vaultings.  The  parapet  of  the  tower  is  127  feet  from  the 
ground.  The  cathedral  was  nearly  destroyed  by  fire  in  1292, 
and  the  present  choir  was  completed  1350.  This  fire  is  said  to 
have  consumed  thirteen  hundred  houses.  The  tower  was  built 
in  1 40 1.  The  edifice  was  originally  dedicated  to  the  Virgin 
Mary,  but  Henry  VIII.,  after  he  had  suppressed  the  priory  con- 
nected with  it,  named  it  the  Church  of  the  Holy  and  Undivided 
Trinity.  Up  to  that  time  it  had  been  under  the  administration 
of  twenty-nine  different  bishops,  —  many  of  them  men  of  note, 
of  whom  it  would  be  pleasant  to  speak  did  our  limits  not  forbid. 
Owen  Oglethorpe,  the  thirtieth  bishop,  was  noted  as  the  only  one 
who  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  crown  Queen  Elizabeth,  all  others 
having  refused  to  do  so.  History  says  that  "  during  the  per- 
formance of  the  ceremony  he  was  commanded  by  the  queen  not 
to  elevate  the  host ;  to  prevent  the  idolatry  of  the  people,  and 
to  omit  it  because  she  liked  it  not."  It  is  a  question  whether 
he  obeyed.  Wood  says  :  "  He  sore  repented  him  of  crowning 
the  queen  all  the  days  of  his  life,  which  were  for  that  special 
cause  both  short  and  wearisome."  He  was  fined  $1,250  by  the 
council  for  not  appearing  at  a  public  disputation,  and  was  soon 
afterwards  deprived  of  his  office. 

A  worthy  and  well-known  bishop  of  this  cathedral  was  James 
Usher,  who  was  appointed  in  1642.  He  was  an  Irishman  by 
birth,  and  had  since  1625  been  Archbishop  of  Armagh  in  Ire- 
land. He  died  March  21,  1655,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five,  and 
Cromwell  ordered  him  a  magnificent  funeral,  which  took  place 
at  Westminster  Abbey,  and  the  great  Protector  signed  a  warrant 
to  the  Lords  of  the  Treasury,  to  pay  Dr.  Bernard  $1,000  to  de- 
fray the  expenses  of  it.  Bishop  Usher  was  a  theological  writer, 
noted  as  the  author  of  the  system  of  chronology  which  is  fre- 
quently printed  in  the  margin  of  the  Bible.  On  the  restoration 
of  the  church,  Richard  Sterne  was  elected  bishop.  He  is  cele- 
brated as  having  been  domestic  chaplain  to  the  notorious  Arch- 
bishop Laud,  and  attending  him  on  the  scaffold.  He  was  also 
a  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  with  several  others,  on  complaint  made 
by  Cromwell,  that  they  had  used  the  Cambridge  College  plate  for 
the  king's  relief  at  York  ;  but  in  1 664  he  was  translated  to  York 
Minster,  and  died  there  in  1683. 


CAKLISLE.  195 

One  of  the  honors  of  this  cathedral  is  that,  in  1782,  William 
Paley,  the  writer  on  Political  Economy,  Natural  Theology,  and 
Evidences  of  Christianity,  was  its  archdeacon,  and  it  was  here 
that  these  works  were  written.  His  burial-place  and  monument 
are  both  in  the  cathedral. 

Near  the  market-place  are  the  remains  of  a  castle,  built  by  the 
Normans  in  1092.  It  is  much  dilapidated,  but  prominent  por- 
tions are  in  excellent  preservation.  A  race  of  people  at  the 
zenith  of  power  erected  and  used  this  castle.  This  race  de- 
clined, and  a  new  one  came  out  of  its  decay.  Kingdoms  have 
since  risen  and  gone  into  oblivion.  The  march  of  humanity 
has  for  eight  centuries  been  going  on  its  way,  but  the  castle 
remains,  —  changed  only  as  time  has  disintegrated  the  stone, 
and  so  gradually  that  no  one  generation  has  realized  the  trans- 
formation. More  substantial  material  for  thought  may  be  ob- 
ained  from  these  old  English  places,  than  from  almost  any  other 
spots  in  Europe. 

At  6  p.  m.  this  Saturday  night  we  took  train  for  Glasgow,  and 
so  are  for  a  short  time  to  be  among  the  stalwart  Caledonians. 


SCOTLAND. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

GLASGOW  —  THE   ROB-ROY   COUNTRY — THE    LAKES 

CALLENDER  —  STIRLING. 

ON  their  own  soil,  or  anywhere  in  the  world,  the  record  of 
the  Scotch  is  good.  Those  hard-working  and  reflective 
qualities,  nurtured  by  John  Knox,  have  borne  fruit. 
Not  dependent  on  priest  or  bishop  for  rule  or  thought,  the 
people  have  long  felt  their  individual  responsibility.  Industry, 
frugality,  integrity,  have  been  nursed  by  the  child  with  its 
mother's  milk.  A  hard  theology  cramped  the  mind  in  exploring 
fields  of  philosophy,  and  the  range  of  thought  has  been  limited. 
The  people  employed  so  much  time  in  preparing  for  another 
life,  that  they  had  but  little  to  devote  to  making  them- 
selves comfortable  in  this  world.  Indeed,  comfort  was  consid- 
ered suspicious  ;  but  these  conditions  were  preparing  them  to 
contend  with  German  Rationalism,  and  the  blending  of  the  two 
will  make  a  good  harvest.  While  the  Scotch  element  has  been 
eminently  conservative,  and  so  a  brake  on  the  wheels  of  a  hurried 
advance,  the  German  element  has  been  doing  its  work  of  lifting 
thought  to  a  higher  plane.  Each  has  given  and  received,  and 
American  thought,  engendered  three  thousand  miles  away,  is 
a  golden  mean  between  the  two.  Calvinism  in  America  has 
been  at  its  best,  and  also,  we  trust,  at  its  worst.  The  Ger- 
man mind  has  also  influenced  America.  The  flint  and  the  steel 
strike  fire,  and  it  is  consuming  the  superstitions  of  one  system, 
and  purifying  the  rationalism  of  the  other. 

At  6.30  p.  m.  we  ride  out  of  the  Carlisle  station.  The  sun  is  yet 
high,  and  the  fine  scenery  of  Northern  England  meets  our  view. 
It  is  more  hilly  than  it  is  farther  south,  and  better  wooded.  Every- 
thing looks  more  like  New  England.  Gardens  prevail,  and  many 
to  remind  us  of  home.  Nothing  struck  us  more  strangely 
than  the  length  of  the  days,  and,  to  use  an  Irishman's  expression, 
"the  evening  end  of  them."  At  9  o'clock  p.  m.  we  can  see  to 
read  and  write  ;  and  at  Paris  a  month  later,  July  4,  we  could  see 


200  SCOTLAND. 

to  write  distinctly  at  9.30  p.  m.,  and  could  see  the  time  by  the 
watch  at  9.50.  After  a  ride  of  three  hours,  we  glide  into  the 
station  at 

GLASGOW. 

This  chief  commercial  and  manufacturing  city  of  Scotland  is 
situated  on  the  River  Clyde,  twenty-one  miles  from  its  mouth, 
and  forty-one  miles  southwest  of  Edinburgh,  and  has  a  popu- 
lation of  477,141,  or,  including  the  suburbs,  547,538.  The  level 
city  is  three  miles  long,  and  lies  on  both  sides  of  the  river, 
which  is  five  hundred  feet  wide,  crossed  by  two  suspension 
and  three  stone  bridges,  and  has  several  ferries. 

It  became  a  burgh,  or  town,  as  early  as  11 90,  and  was  then 
granted  the  privilege  of  holding  an  annual  fair.  In  1556  it 
ranked  the  eleventh  among  the  towns  of  Scotland.  It  is  the 
fourth  town  in  Great  Britain  in  its  exports,  and  the  second  in 
wealth  and  population.  The  Romans  had  a  station  on  the 
Clyde  at  the  location  of  the  present  city.  In  1300  a  battle  was 
fought  in  what  is  now  High  Street,  between  the  English  and 
Wallace,  and  in  it  the  noted  Percy  was  slain.  In  1650  Re- 
formed Superintendents  superseded  Catholic  Bishops  ;  and  in 
1638  the  famous  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  church  was  held 
here,  and  Episcopacy  was  abjured.  For  several  years  after,  the 
city  was  a  prey  to  both  parties  in  the  civil  wars,  and  fire,  plague, 
plunder,  and  famine  desolated  the  place.  June  4,  1690,  the 
charter  of  William  and  Mary  conferred  on  the  townsmen  the 
right  of  electing  their  own  magistrates. 

Glasgow  is  well  laid  out ;  the  streets  are  wide  and  clean,  and 
there  is  little  to  be  seen  that  is  peculiar.  The  aspect  is  com- 
mercial. Stores  and  warehouses  prevail,  and  the  question  often 
arises,  "  Where  do  the  people  live?"  The  centres  of  popula- 
tion are  around  outside  the  business  portion,  and  the  mansions 
exhibit  more  thoroughness  of  construction  than  fancy  in  deco- 
ration. We  are  in  one  of  the  great  places  of  Scotland,  not  in 
one  of  France  or  Germany  ;  this  fact  is  everywhere  apparent. 
Liverpool  represents  it,  not  Paris.  The  city  has  four  parks. 
The  Green  has  140  acres,  on  the  north  bank  of  the  river,  and 
near  the  east  end  of  the  city.  Kelvingrove  Park  has  40  acres 
at  the  west  end;  Queen's  Park,  100  acres.  Alexandra  Park 
has  85  acres,  on  elevated  ground,  portions  of  it  commanding 
views  of  the  entire  city.  A  stream  runs  through  it,  and  primeval 
groves,  grand  avenues,  lawns,  and  flower-plots  make  the  place 
one  of  great  attraction.    On  Sunday,  at  the  time  of  our  visit,  tens 


GLASGOW.  201 

of  thousands  were  enjoying  it.  Adjoining  this  are  the  grounds 
of  Glasgow  University,  yet  more  elevated.  The  grand  edifice  is 
of  a  domesticated  Gothic  architecture,  built  of  gray  limestone,  and 
stands  on  the  highest  ground.  It  was  finished  in  1870,  and  cost 
$1,650,000.  This  college  was  founded  in  1443  by  James  II., 
but  it  had  only  a  feeble  existence  till  1560,  when  Queen  Mary 
bestowed  upon  it  one  half  of  all  the  confiscated  church  property 
of  the  city.  The  library  was  founded  in  1473,  and  contains 
105.000  volumes.  It  has  an  observatory  and  a  good  cabinet, 
and  the  grounds  contain  22  acres.  The  city  is  supplied  with 
water  from  the  celebrated  Loch  Katrine,  by  an  aqueduct  26 
miles  long,  and  it  sustains  two  theatres,  two  museums,  and  as 
many  public  libraries.  It  has  175  churches  and  chapels,  and 
a  very  fine  botanic  garden  of  40  acres,  which  is  kept  in  per- 
fect condition  and  open  free  to  visitors. 

The  cathedral  is  of  all  edifices  of  the  kind  the  most  ancient 
looking.  It  is  on  the  border  of  the  city,  and  enclosed  with 
a  high  iron  fence,  being  surrounded  by  a  small  burial-ground. 
A  peculiarity  is  that  many  tombs  and  monuments  are  entirely 
encaged,  the  top  included.  The  ironwork,  generally  about  four 
feet  wide,  seven  feet  long,  and  seven  feet  high,  is  rusty  and  pro- 
duces a  disagreeable  effect.  We  were  disgusted  with  the 
appearance  of  the  grounds  of  this  metropolitan  church,  really 
the  finest  old  Gothic  building  in  Scotland.  It  is  not  large  but 
is  on  a  site  that  overlooks  most  of  the  city.  It  was  begun  in 
1 192,  and  was  ready  for  consecration  in  1197.  It  enjoyed  an 
unmolested  use  for  the  papal  worship  during  four  hundred  years  ; 
but,  notwithstanding  this  long  service,  it  was  not  finished  till 
the  present  century.  Its  noteworthy  features  are  the  crypt  and 
a  profusion  of  brilliant  stained  glass.  Near  the  cathedral  is  a 
cemetery  called  the  Necropolis,  situated  on  very  elevated 
ground,  and  highly  attractive.  The  place  is  approached  from 
the  cathedral  by  a  grand  stone  bridge,  and  has  a  park-like 
entrance  and  inside  avenues  at  the  base  of  the  hill.  This 
burial-place,  built  for  all  time,  was  provided  by  private  munifi- 
cence, and  makes  the  cage-work  and  ill-managed  grounds  of  the 
cathedral  look  all  the  more  heathenish.  The  cemetery  is  not 
large  but  may  comprise  three  or  four  acres.  It  is  on  high  land, 
that,  but  for  the  terraces  and  inclined  avenues  traversing  the 
hillside,  would  be  very  difficult  of  as<  ent  ;  but  good  engineering 
makes  it  most  inviting.  The  views  from  this  spot  of  the  city  and 
suburbs  are  very  grand,  and  it  is  constantly  resorted  to  as  a  park. 
One  peculiarity  of  the  place  is  the  number  of  neat  monuments, 


202  SCOTLAND. 

and  a  general  absence  of  ordinary  gravestones.  The  monuments 
are  nearly  all  of  white  marble,  and  set  in  close  rows.  There 
are  more  beautiful  designs  than  we  have  seen  before  or  since. 
The  taste  manifested  is  exquisite,  and  would  do  honor  to  Paris, 
—  instead  of  dishonor,  as  do  the  monuments  of  the  noted  Pere 
La  Chaise,  the  Mount  Auburn  of  France. 

In  this  ground  is  an  imposing  monument,  erected  to  martyrs, 
whose  blood  is  "the  seed  of  the  church."  The  statements  on 
this  monument  interest  not  only  the  people  of  Glasgow  but 
Americans  ;  and  so,  although  the  cold  and  intense  wind  makes  it 
a  work  of  difficulty,  we  copy  them.  They  have  been  read  by 
thousands  and  will  be  read  by  thousands  more  ;  they  inspire 
fortitude,  and  will  thus  be  a  perpetual  honor  to  the  noble  ones 
whom  they  commemorate.  On  the  west  side  is  the  following  :  — 

To  testify  Gratitude  for  inestimable  services 

in  the  cause  of  religion,  education,  and  clvil 

Liberty  ; 

To  awaken  Admiration 

of  that  Integrity,  Disinterestedness,  and  Courage 

Which  stood  unshaken  in  the  midst  of  Trials, 

And  in  the  Maintenance  of  the  highest  objects; 

Finally, 

To  cherish  unceasing  Reverence  for  the  Principles 

and 

Blessings  of  that  great  Reformation 

by  the  influence  of  which  our  Country  through  the 

Midst  of  difficulties 

Has  risen  to  Honor,  Prosperity,  and  Happiness, 

This  Monument  is  erected  by  Voluntary  Contribution 

To  the  Memory  of  John  Knox  ; 

The  Chief  instrument  under  God  of  the  Reformation 

in  Scotland,  on  the  22nd  day  of  September  1825. 

He  died  —  rejoicing  in  the  faith  of  the  Gospel  — 

at  Edinburgh  — 

on  the  24.TH  of  November  a.d.  1572,  in  the 

67TH   YEAR   OF   HIS   AGE. 

On  the  north  side  is  the  following :  — 

Patrick  Hamilton,  a  youth  of  high  rank 

and  distinguished  attainments, 

was  the  first  martyr  in  scotland  for  the  cause  of 

the  Reformation. 

HE   WAS   CONDEMNED   TO   THE   FLAMES   AT   St.  ANDREWS   IN 

1528   IN   THE 

TWENTY-FOURTH    YEAR   OF   HIS   AGE. 


GLASGOW.  203 

From  1530  to  1540  persecution  raged  in  every 

quarter  ;  many  suffered 

the  most  cruel  deaths  ;  and  many  fled  to  england 

and  the  Continent. 

Among  these  early  Martyrs  were  Jerome  Russell 

and  Alexander  Kennedy 

two  young  men  of  great  piety  and  talents  who 

suffered  at  glasgow 

in  1538.     In  1544  George  Wishart  returned  to 

Scotland  from  which  he  had 

been  banished,  and  preached  the  Gospel  in 

VARIOUS   QUARTERS.       In    1546 
THIS    HEAVENLY   MINDED    MAN,   THE   FRIEND   AND 

INSTRUCTOR   OF    KNOX,    WAS   ALSO 
COMMITTED   TO   THE   FLAMES   AT    ST.    ANDREWS. 

The  south  side  has  the  following  :  — 

The  Reformation  produced  a  revolution  in  the 

sentiments  of  mankind 

the  greatest  as  well  as  the  most  beneficent  that 

has  happened  since  the 

publication  of  christianity. 

in  1547,  and  in  the  city  where  his  friend  george 

Wishart  had  suffered, 

John  Knox,  surrounded  with  dangers,  first 

preached  the  doctrine  of  the 

Reformation.     In  1559  ON  THE  24TH  of  August,  the 

Parliament  of  Scotland 

adopted  the  confession  of  faith  presented  by  the 

Reformed 

Minister,  and  declared  Popery  to  be  no  longer 

the  religion 
of  this  kingdom.    john  knox  became  the  minister 

of  Edinburgh,  where  he  continued  to 

HIS  death  the  incorruptible  guardian  of  our  best 

interests. 

"  i  can  take  god  to  witness,"  he  declared,  "  that  i 
never  preached  con- 
tempt of  any  man  and  wise  men  will  consider 
that  a  true  friend  cannot 
flatter  ;  especially  in  a  case  that  involves  the 
salvation  of  the  bodies  and 
souls,  not  of  a  few  persons,  but  of  a  whole  realm." 
When  laid  in  the 
Grave  the  Regent  said,  "There  lieth  He  who 

i.k    I  I.aki  D    1  in     PACE   OF    M  IN, 
WHO   WAS   OFTEN   THREATENED    Willi    THE    DAG     IND 
DAGGER,   JfEl    HATH    ENDED   Ills   DAYS   IN   PEACE  and    honor." 


204  SCOTLAND. 

On  the  east  side  we  have  the  following  :  — 

*     Among  the  early  and  distinguished  friends  of 
the  Reformation, 
Should  be  especially  remembered  Sir  James 

Sandilamis, 

of  Calder,  Alexander  Earl  of  Glencairn, 

Archibald,  Earl  of  Argyll,  and  Lord  James  Stewart, 

afterwards  known  by  the  name  of  "  the  good 

Regent : " 
John  Erskine  of  Dun,  and  John  Row,  who  were 
distinguished  among 
the  Reformed  Ministers  for  their  cultivation  of 
ancient  and  modern  literature. 
Christopher  Goodman  and  John  Willock,  who 
came  from  england 
to  preach  the  gospel  in  scotland  ;  john  wlnram, 
John  Spottiswood,  and  John  Douglass,  who  with 
John  Row  and  John  Knox  compiled  the  first 
Confession  of  Faith 
which  was  presented  to  the  parliament  of  scot- 
land, and  also  the 
first  book  of  discipline. 

The  monument  is  composed  of  a  plinth,  some  six  feet  square, 
upon  which  is  another  of  less  dimensions,  with  the  sides  some- 
what inclined  inward,  bearing  the  inscriptions  ;  then,  two  low 
plinths  smaller  yet ;  and  resting  on  these  is  a  Grecian  Doric 
column  some  two  feet  or  more  in  diameter ;  and  on  the  abacus, 
or  cap,  at  its  corners,  are  ornaments  above  it.  Next  there  is  a 
low  pedestal,  or  corniced  plinth,  and  the  whole  is  surmounted 
by  a  life-size  statue  of  John  Knox.  The  whole  may  be  about 
thirty-five  feet  high. 

The  city,  though  largely  given  to  traffic,  has  extensive  manu- 
factures. Among  these  are  the  St.  Rollox  chemical  works,  the 
largest  in  the  world,  covering  sixteen  acres,  and  employing  a 
thousand  men.  The  chimney  is  450  feet  high,  220  feet  higher 
than  the  large  one  at  East  Cambridge,  Mass. ;  or,  to  make  it 
more  definite,  it  is  exactly  the  height  of  the  East  Cambridge 
chimney  with  Bunker  Hill  Monument  on  top  of  it,  for  they  are 
respectively  230  and  220  feet  high.  There  is  one  in  Glasgow 
ten  feet  higher  than  this,  —  that  belonging  to  the  artificial 
manure  works,  which  measures  460  feet. 

At  11.30  on  this  Sunday  we  attended  service  at  one  of  the 
Presbyterian  churches.  As  an  act  of  charity  let  the  church  be 
nameless,  for  we  must  add  that  the  services  were  very  tedious. 


GLASGOW.  205 

The  prayer  was  extraordinarily  long  and  prosy ;  six  verses  were 
sung  in  each  psalm ;  the  explanatory  remarks  on  the  Scripture 
readings  were  long  and  tame  ;  and  the  sermon,  of  a  full  hour's 
length,  while  well  written  and  delivered,  was  a  rehash  of  the  com- 
monest platitudes.  While  the  theologic  world  moves,  this  parish 
was  too  near  an  ancient  theologic  centre  to  derive  much  advan- 
tage from  the  motion.  It  is  yet  a  philosophic  question  whether 
the  exact  axis  of  a  revolving  shaft  moves  at  all,  and  we  can  but 
think  that  a  part  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  of  Scotland  is  near 
such  a  fixed  centre.  But  we  went  to  hear  some  actual  Scotch 
Presbyterianism,  and  were  not  sorry  that  we  did  so  ;  though 
conscious  that  we  could  have  displayed  fortitude  under  our  dis- 
appointment, had  we  found  the  stanch  Knoxites  discussing  the 
signs  of  the  times. 

We  love  this  old  church  for  the  vast  good  it  has  done.  As 
our  ships  need  anchors,  so  the  Church  Universal  needs  conser- 
vatives ;  and,  in  spite  of  our  liberalism,  she  will  have  them  as 
long  as  they  are  needed. 

There  was  more  order  in  Glasgow,  more  of  the  Puritan's  quiet 
Sunday,  than  we  ever  saw  before,  at  home  or  abroad.  There 
are  no  horse-cars  or  omnibuses  visible,  and  few  teams  of  any 
kind.  No  shops  were  open,  though  there  were  many  drunken 
people.  Sunday  drinking  is  prohibited;  though  the  sale  is 
licensed  on  other  days,  as  in  Boston.  It  is  said  to  be  "  under 
wholesome  management."  Transpose  the  syllables,  and  instead 
of  wholesome  say  somewhole,  and  you  have  the  truth.  At  the 
Albion  Hotel  we  had  thought  ourselves  in  a  temperance  house, 
at  least  for  Sunday ;  but  all  day  long  groups  of  all  ages  and  con- 
ditions and  both  sexes  were  at  the  bar ;  and  so  large  was  the 
number  that  a  sentinel  only  let  in  new  customers  when  others 
went  out.  Till  ten  at  night  the  rum-mill  was  in  operation.  Li- 
cense men  to  do  wrong,  and  you  throw  the  reins  on  the  back  of 
your  horse.  Spend  less  time  in  the  church,  and  devote  more  to 
enforcing  the  law,  and  God's  kingdom  will  sooner  come. 

June  i  is  as  cold  and  damp  as  a  Boston  day  in  March  or 
April.     Great  coats  are  near  us,  as  good  friends  ought  to  be. 

At  10  p.  m.  to  bed,  —  not  to  sleep,  nor,  as  Shakespeare  has  it, 
to  dream,  but  to  hear  the  incessant  tramp  of  the  tipplers  ;  "  aye, 
there  's  the  rub  ;  "  but  we  drop  a  veil  over  the  theme.  We  arose 
at  dawn,  breakfasted  by-and-by,  and  at  7  p.m.  continued  our 
tour  towards  Edinburgh,  sorry  for  some  things  that  must  be 
said,  if  we  would  fully  describe  the  Glasgow  that  now  is, —  not 
the  Glasgow  that  is  to  be. 


20G  SCOTLAND. 

The  passage  to  Edinburgh  may  be  made  in  a  few  hours,  but 
we  are  to  go  the  way  of  all  tourists  who  can  afford  a  day  or  two 
for  the  journey. 

We  follow  down  the  Clyde  for  some  miles,  amid  pleasing, 
though  not  very  interesting  scenery.  There  on  our  left  are  the 
ruins  of  Dumbarton  Castle,  situated  on  a  cliff,  and  picturesque 
amidst  their  solitary  beauty.  This  was  once  a  fortress,  and  is 
the  place  from  which  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  took  passage  for 
France  when  a  child. 

A  few  miles  more,  and  we  arrive  at  Balloch.  This  is  a  little 
hamlet  at  the  south  end  of  Loch  Lomond.  This  lake  covers 
forty-five  square  miles,  and  is  one  of  the  Scottish  lake-group, 
corresponding  to  the  Killarney  lakes  in  Ireland.  We  here 
embark  in  a  fine  little  steamer.  The  lake  is  not  large  in  appear- 
ance, as  its  small  bays  occupy  much  of  its  area ;  and  in  most 
respects  it  resembles  the  upper  lake  of  Killarney,  or  our  lakes 
George  and  Winnipiseogee.  The  water  is  clear,  and  the  mar- 
gin prettily  wooded  ;  and  this  end  is  well  studded  with  islands. 
There  is  a  grandeur  about  the  highlands  of  Scotland  not  to  be 
seen  on  the  Irish  lakes.  Prominent  among  the  mountains  is 
Ben  Lomond,  standing  out  in  sublime  greatness.  It  is  3,192 
feet  high ;  but,  while  really  lower  than  some  hills  at  Killarney, 
its  contour  intensifies  its  impression.  We  appreciate  its  com- 
panionship, and,  as  we  sail  on,  are  constantly  introduced  to 
Ben  Lomond's  companions.  Ben  Dhu,  as  it  is  familiarly  called, 
though  the  real  name  is  Ben  MacDhui,  is  4,296  feet  high.  These 
highlands  are  rugged  in  their  outline,  and  present  vast  glens, 
crags,  ravines,  and  broken  peaks,  being  unlike  those  of  south- 
ern Ireland,  which  are  generally  smooth  and  rounded.  The 
mountain  haze  is  seen  in  great  perfection,  and  the  hills  are  well 
wooded,  and  exhibit  a  splendid  verdure.  There  is  a  peculiar 
moisture  and  softness  in  the  air,  with  a  fragrant  and  stimulat- 
ing quality.  In  contradistinction  to  the  Irish  lakes,  these  of 
Scotland  have  a  bold  and  masculine  appearance.  We  speak 
of  elegance  and  nicety  at  Ireland's  lakes,  but  here  we  have, 
added  to  those  qualities,  vastness  and  power  reflected  from  their 
mountains. 

We  admire  Glen  Luss,  Bannochar,  and  Glen  Fruin,  as  well 
as  other  objects  of  interest  touched  upon  in  the  "  Lady  of  the 
I^ake,"  especially  in  the  rower's  song,  "  Hail  to  the  Chief,"  for 
we  are  at  the  very  scene  of  the  poem.  It  adds  a  charm  to 
recall  the  fact  that  many  a  time  Sir  Walter  Scott  here  sailed  and 
admired;  and  afterwards  recalled  his  thought,  —  intensifying  it 


THE    ROB-ROY    COUNTRY.  207 

and  materializing  all,  till  his  verse  became  a  thing  of  life.  Our 
steamer  touches  at  Landing  Luss,  on  the  left,  and  at  Rowarden- 
nan  on  the  right ;  then  we  cross  to  Tarbet  on  the  left,  and  after 
an  inspiring  sail  of  two  hours  we  are  at  Inversnaid.  This  is  an 
old  fort  and  a  landing.  It  is  of  no  importance  as  a  fort,  but  was 
built  in  1 713,  as  a  defence  against  the  Macgregors,  led  by  the 
celebrated  Rob  Roy. 

The  principal  interest  in  the  place  lies  in  the  fact  of  its  having 
been  the  lairdship  of  Rob  Roy  before  he  became  an  outlaw  and 
a  freebooter.  Lower  down,  at  the  foot  of  Ben  Lomond,  we  are 
shown  the  prison,  a  rocky  fastness  at  the  edge  of  the  water, 
where  it  is  said  he  confined  his  captives.  Every  nook  of  these 
Highlands  is  full  of  romance.  The  writings  of  Sir  Walter  have 
surcharged  the  very  atmosphere  with  it ;  and  people  who  are 
ever  so  matter-of-fact  at  home,  here  become  permeated  with  the 
etherialistic  influence.  Ideality  has  free  play.  At  home  they 
say,  "  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it."  Here  they  are  different 
people,  and  say,  "  It  may  have  been  so."  Rob  Roy,  whose  his- 
tory has  been  immortalized  by  Scott  in  his  novel  of  that  name, 
was  largely  connected  with  this  neighborhood.  A  few  words 
concerning  him  may  be  of  service  to  the  reader  who  has  not  the 
history  at  hand.  He  was  born  about  1660,  the  exact  time  and 
place  not  being  known.  He  died,  it  is  said,  at  Aberfoyle  in 
1 738,  at  about  the  age  of  seventy-seven.  His  true  name  was 
Robert  Macgregor,  which,  when  the  clan  Macgregor  was  out- 
lawed by  the  Parliament  of  Scotland  in  1693,  he  changed  for 
that  of  his  mother,  and  was  afterward  known  as  Robert  Campbell. 
Prior  to  the  Great  Rebellion  of  17 15  he  was  a  cattle-dealer.  He 
was  very  artful  and  intriguing,  and  gave  the  Duke  of  Montrose 
an  excuse  for  seizing  his  lands,  and  then  retaliated  by  reprisals 
on  the  Duke ;  and  for  many  years  he  continued  his  double- 
facedness,  levying  blackmail  on  his  dupes  and  enemies,  in 
spite  of  a  garrison  of  English  soldiers  stationed  near  his 
residence. 

We  now  leave  our  steamer  and  take  open  teams,  with  four 
fine  horses  to  each,  for  a  ride  of  eight  miles  to  Loch  Katrine. 
Never  a  finer  ride  than  this,  over  the  beautiful  heaths  of  Scot- 
land. The  mountain  scenery  is  exquisite  in  all  directions.  At 
times  we  ride  along  precipitous  paths,  where  we  can  look  down 
from  "  awfully  giddy  heights  to  valleys  low,"  the  road  winding 
amid  the  hills  and  constantly  changing  beauties.  A  heavily 
nrooded  country  and  splendid  vegetation  prevail,  and  there  is 
no  trace  of  barrenness,  as  in  the  Gap  of  1  hinloe. 


208  SCOTLAND. 

We  go  along  the  shore  of  the  meandering  river  and  Lake 
Arklett,  and  now  the  driver  tells  us  that  here  was  the  cottage 
of  Helen  Macgrcgor.  Mountains  are  about  us,  and  here  is 
an  enclosed  plain,  perhaps  half  a  mile  wide  and  a  mile  long, 
level  as  our  house  floors,  and  nearly  covered  with  heather,  — 
which  is  a  sort  of  heath,  quite  like  that  grown  by  us  as  a 
house-plant,  and,  being  of  a  dark  tint,  gives  a  purplish  hue  to 
the  moor.  The  space  we  are  now  going  over,  all  between  the 
two  lakes,  is  the  country  referred  to  in  the  novel.  Over  these 
very  roads  that  singular  fellow  rode  and  walked.  The  air  here 
was  remarkably  exhilarating.  It  seemed  new,  as  if  it  was  for 
the  first  time  breathed.  The  ride  was  much  too  short.  There 
were  millions  of  reasons  for  wishing  it  longer,  so  many  things 
were  waiting  to  entertain  us  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the 
left,  before  and  behind  us,  under  foot  and  overhead.  It  was 
good  for  us  to  be  there,  and  the  inclination  was  strong  upon  us 
to  build  tabernacles.  At  length  Loch  Katrine  was  reached.  It 
contains  an  area  of  only  five  square  miles,  and  is  the  one, 
though  twenty-seven  miles  away,  from  which  water  is  taken  for  the 
city  of  Glasgow.  It  is  claimed  that  it  is  one  of  the  finest  lakes 
in  the  world,  and  it  is  certain  that  no  one  can  imagine  its  supe- 
rior. The  teams  leave  us  at  a  very  comfortable  two-story 
hotel,  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  here  we  are  to  dine ;  which 
service  over,  we  walk  out  for  a  ramble,  as  an  hour  is  to  elapse 
before  the  steamer  arrives  from  the  other  end  of  the  lake.  A 
wide  road  separates  the  hotel  from  the  latter ;  a  wharf  ex- 
tends from  it,  and  to  the  left  is  a  sea-wall,  perhaps  a  hundred  feet 
long,  with  a  protective  rail  along  the  top.  To  the  left  of  that, 
and  in  the  corner,  on  the  border  of  the  lake,  is  a  fine  grove  be- 
longing to  the  hotel,  with  swings  and  other  entertainments  for 
tourists.  In  the  rear  of  the  house  are  the  stables  ;  and  back  of 
these,  and  around  and  back  of  the  grove,  is  a  hill  which  any- 
where but  in  Scotland  would  be  called  a  mountain.  To  the 
right  of  the  hotel,  and  bordering  the  lake,  were  a  grove  and  field, 
with  here  and  there  a  cottage.  The  mountains  in  the  distance 
loomed  up  grandly  ;  and  the  borders  of  the  lake,  while  more  or 
less  irregular  and  indented,  had  a  very  clean-cut  look.  The  lake 
was  not  very  wide  here,  —  perhaps  a  fourth  of  a  mile,  —  and  it 
stretched  on,  without  much  change. 

We  take  the  little  steamer  here  at  Stronaclacher,  —  we  had 
almost  forgotten  to  tell  the  name,  —  and  as  we  look  down 
into  the  crystal  water,  it  seems  too  pure  for  a  steamer  to  sail  in, 
for  it  is  quite  equal  in  clearness  to  Seneca  Lake,  New  York, 


THE    LAKES.  209 

and  reminds  one  of  it.  Remove  the  town  of  Geneva  from  its  cosy 
situation  at  the  end  of  the  lake  ;  put  there  a  long  wooden  hotel ; 
border  the  shores  with  a  heavily  wooded  country  to  the  water's 
edge  ;  add  some  mountains  off  in  the  distance  to  the  right  and 
the  left,  at  Ovid,  Lodi,  and  Hector ;  put  some  more  opposite 
on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  and  a  large  lot  of  them  at  Watkins  ; 
then  condense  all  to  one  quarter  the  size,  and  you  have  the  size 
and  shape  of  Loch  Katrine. 

We  have  now  left  the  Rob-Roy  Country,  and  are  in  that  of 
the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  for  this  Lake  Katrine  is  the  one  Sir 
Walter  had  in  mind  when  he  penned  that  fairy-like  romance. 
We  come  first  to  a  little  island,  well  covered  with  trees  and 
thick  shrubbery,  where  the  meeting  of  Fitzjames  and  Douglas  is 
assumed  to  have  taken  place,  and  where  the  charming  heroine 
was  seen  in  her  boat.  Ragged  Ben  Venu  appears  ;  and  ahead 
of  that  are  the  sharp  peaks  of  Ben  A'an,  the  whole  surrounded 
by  heavy  woodlands,  here  and  there  extending  well  up  the 
mountains,  and  marked  by  great  glens  and  gorges.  After  the  sail 
of  an  hour,  much  too  soon  we  change  our  vehicle  ;  and  here,  at 
the  little  wharf,  carriages  are  ready  to  take  us  to  Callender. 
Our  party  numbers  about  thirty,  and  we  are  to  go  through  the 
Trosachs,  which  comprise  some  of  the  finest  scenery  in  Scot- 
land. We  soon  arrived  at  Ardcheanocrohan,  a  fifteen-lettered 
place,  whose  name  we  were  shy  in  pronouncing ;  and  we  confess 
it  takes  some  courage  to  write  it,  but  we  presume  it's  good 
Scotch. 

As  we  stand  at  the  door  of  the  tavern,  —  that 's  just  what  it  is, 
—  or  rather  as  we  sit  on  our  coach-seat  in  front  of  the  building  and 
look  across  the  lake,  there,  in  superb  repose,  three  or  four  miles 
away,  is  the  Clachan  of  Aberfoyle,  well  remembered  by  the  readers 
of  "  Rob  Roy."  We  ride  through  mountain  scenery,  equalling 
if  not  excelling  any  at  the  White  Mountains  of  New  Hampshire, 
and  strongly  reminding  one  of  the  Notch.  Our  road  winds  to 
the  right,  and  Loch  Achry  comes  to  view,  —  a  lovely  gem  we 
would  fain  transport  to  America. 

In  due  time  we  arrive  at  the  Turk  Water,  and  the  place  cele- 
brated in  the  "  I^ady  of  the  Lake,"  where,  as  Sir  Walter  says, — 

When  the  Brigg  of  Turk  was  won, 

'I  bi    i"i<  i  horsi  man  rode  alone. 

This  is  a  single-an  bed  stone  bridge,  which  crosses  this  stream. 
We  are  now  introduced  to  tin-  great  pine- lands  of  the  Glen- 
finlas.       The  trees  are  very  tall,  and  the  scenery  is  wild  and 

14 


210  SCOTLAND. 

unusual.  In  front  is  the  heathery  Craig  Moor,  Glenfinlas 
Hills,  with  their  winding  valleys,  and  Loch  Vennaehar  with  its 
clear  water  and  bordering  shrubs.  We  pass  a  waterfall,  which 
runs  out  of  Loch  Katrine,  and  helps  to  supply  Glasgow  with  its 
water.  This  used  to  be  known  by  the  uneuphonious  name  of 
Coilantogle  Ford,  and  is  the  spot  where  Fit/James  and  Rod- 
erick Dhu  had  their  conflict.  Now  appears  the  stately  Ben 
Ledi,  one  of  the  tallest  giants.  We  pass  on,  over  the  Callender 
bridge,  and  are  at  the  town  of 

CALLENDER, 

an  old  settlement  of  small  account.  It  has  a  main  street  bor- 
dered by  stone  and  brick  houses  with  pleasant  grounds. 

We  take  the  train  for  Stirling,  and  lose  sight  of  the  hill-country 
which  for  hours  has  enraptured  us.  It  was  the  treat  of  a  life- 
time, and  as  such  to  be  appreciated  and  enjoyed.  We  pass  the 
town  of  Uumblane,  to  which  allusion  is  made  in  the  song  of 
"Jessie,  the  Flower  of  Dunblane,"  and  then  over  the  famed 
Bridge  of  Allan,  familiar  by  the  ballad  of  "  Allan  Water." 

After  a  ride  of  an  hour,  at  5  p.  m.  we  approach 

STIRLING. 

This  is  a  place  of  special  note.  It  is  situated  on  the  River 
Forth,  thirty-one  miles  from  Edinburgh,  and  has  a  population 
of  14,279.  In  beauty  of  situation  it  rivals  the  capital.  The 
buildings  present  an  appearance  of  modernized  antiquity,  being 
interspersed  with  mansions  of  the  Scottish  Nobles.  The  so- 
ciety here  is  highly  aristocratic.  Stirling  was  a  favorite  place 
of  residence  for  James  V.,  who  died  at  Falkland,  Dec.  13,  1542. 
He  was  one  of  the  kings  of  Scotland,  born  at  Linlithgow 
Palace,  April  13,  15 12.  The  old  House  of  Parliament,  built  by 
him,  is  still  standing,  and  now  used  as  barracks.  The  ancient 
Gothic  church  is  the  one  in  which  James  VI.  was  crowned, 
and  there  are  the  remains  of  an  unfinished  palace,  begun  in 
1570,  by  the  Regent,  the  Earl  of  Mar.  Near  the  town  are 
the  ruins  of  the  famed  Cambuskenneth  Abbey  ;  and  not  far 
from  the  town,  perhaps  three  miles  away,  is  the  celebrated 
field  of  Bannockburn,  on  which  the  battle  was  fought  June  24, 
1 3 14.  War  had  raged  between  England  and  Scotland  for 
many  years  under  Edward  II.,  who,  in  contentions  with  his 
parliament,  had  neglected  Scotland.      Robert  Bruce  III.  re- 


STIRLING.  211 

covered  all  of  Scotland  with  the  exception  of  the  fortress  in 
Stirling,  which  alone  held  out  for  the  English  ;  and  even  that,  the 
governor,  Mowbray,  had  agreed  to  surrender,  if  it  was  not 
relieved  before  the  feast  of  John  the  Baptist.  Edward  was 
aroused  by  this  report,  and  he  encamped  near  it  at  the  head  of 
a  large  army.  He  was  met  by  Bruce  with  30,000  picked  men,  on 
the  eve  before  the  day  fixed  for  surrender.  The  battle  of 
Bannockburn  was  the  result,  and  ended  in  the  utter  defeat  of 
the  English.  Bruce  was  now  able  to  dictate  terms,  and  he  ex- 
changed prisoners  for  his  wife,  sister,  and  other  relatives,  who  had 
long  been  in  captivity  to  the  English.  This  success  being  attained, 
the  Scotch  assumed  the  offensive,  and  invaded  Ireland  ;  and, 
meeting  with  success  there,  Edward  Bruce,  brother  of  Robert, 
was  crowned  king  of  that  country,  May  2,  13 16. 

As  one  stands  at  the  castle,  220  feet  above  the  surrounding 
land,  two  miles  away  lies  Bannockburn  :  a  few  stone  walls  and  a 
grove  designate  the  famed  spot.  The  eye  takes  in  a  wide  scene 
of  unparalleled  beauty.  Cows  and  sheep  graze  peacefully  there, 
with  no  one  to  disturb  or  molest.  The  air  is  free  from  sug- 
gestions of  smoke  of  powder  or  boom  of  cannon. 


'112  SCOTLAND. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

STIRLING   CASTLE  —  EDINBURGH. 

GRAND  old  Stirling  Castle  !  It  is  situated  on  high  ground. 
On  one  side  the  land  is  very  precipitous  ;  in  fact  the  walls 
are  on  the  actual  verge  of  the  high  bluff,  and  there  is  an 
almost  vertical  fall  of  more  than  two  hundred  feet.  In  all 
directions  is  a  view  never  excelled.  There  lie  the  quiet  fields, 
extending  from  the  base  of  the  hill,  while  the  river,  like  a  serpent 
of  gigantic  but  graceful  proportions,  curves  across  them.  Here 
and  there  are  charming  groves  and  solid  woodlands,  and  on, 
in  the  distant  west,  are  the  famed  Highlands.  To  the  north  and 
east  are  the  Ochil  Hills,  with  their  companions,  the  Campsie 
Hills,  on  the  south ;  and  on  the  rear  lies  Stirling  town,  naively 
antique. 

How  natural  is  it  to  look  farther  over  the  great  landscape.  As 
we  face  the  town,  off  at  our  right,  on  a  great  hill,  —  almost  a  crag, 
—  is  the  Wallace  Monument,  of  which  we  will  speak  by  and  by. 
In  the  distance  are  the  bewitching  ruins  of  Cambuskenneth 
Abbey  and  the  Abbey  Craig,  the  Bridge  and  the  Water  of  Allan, 
the  Great  Carse,  the  Valley  of  the  Forth,  the  Field  of  Bannock- 
burn,  and  a  thousand  points  of  beauty. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  here  kings  and  queens  have  delighted  to 
stay.  The  building  is  open  to  visitors,  and  for  the  small  fee 
of  a  shilling  one  may  take  his  fill  of  delight.  The  edifice  is  a 
thorough  castle.  Built  of  brownish  stone,  it  has  a  subdued 
look ;  but  its  low  towers  and  battlements,  its  varied  outline  and 
its  great  extent,  all  impress  the  beholder  with  reverence.  It 
would  be  a  work  of  many  chapters  to  describe  in  detail  the 
various  articles  on  exhibition,  —  reminders  of  remarkable  events. 
Here  is  the  Douglas  Room,  where  James  II.  assassinated  the 
powerful  and  aggravating  Earl  of  Douglas  in  1440.  The  win- 
dows are  shown  from  which  these  men  leaned  and  conversed 
before  the  bloody  work  ;  for  they  remain  precisely  as  they  were 
more  than  four  hundred  years  ago.  There  resided  all  the  king 
Jameses,  from  the   First  to  the  Sixth  inclusive,  as  did  Mary 


STIRLING   CASTLE.  213 

Queen  of  Scots.  The  castle  is  used  as  barracks  for  English 
soldiers,  though  a  portion  of  the  building  is  fearfully  vacant,  and 
one  prominent  quarter  is  a  museum  of  antiquities.  We  return 
through  the  large  courtyards  by  which  we  entered,  and  through 
the  great  arched  opening,  in  which  is  run  up  the  ponderous 
portcullis,  or  strong  lattice  gateway,  whose 

"  Massive  bar  had  oft  rolled  back  the  tide  of  war." 

The  home  of  kings  and  of  the  most  noted  persons  of  the  civil- 
ized world  !  Soil  made  sacred  by  the  tread  of  nobility.  But 
we  were  free  men,  unhindered  observers,  at  liberty  to  examine 
and  criticise,  in  unqualified  republican  American  fashion,  things 
once  too  sacred  for  common  people  to  look  upon.  How 
changed  !  What  has  done  this  but  popular  education,  and  the 
growth  of  religious  liberty,  —  elements  underlying  the  Magna 
Charta,  which  has  discounted  royalty,  and  opened  the  great 
doors  of  civilization?  Where  are  now  the  kings,  the  queens? 
Their  places  of  habitation  are  our  intellectual  banquet-hall ; 
their  household  goods  form  a  museum  of  curiosities  for  all  who 
are  disposed  to  visit  it. 

Our  next  visit  was  to  Gray  Friars  Church,  founded  by  James 
IV.  in  1594,  and  here  a  strange  thing  met  our  view.  The  edi- 
fice is  in  the  usual  form  of  a  Latin  cross.  A  large  door  has  been 
made  in  the  centre  of  each  transept,  which  are  used  as  large 
vestibules  for  the  two  auditoriums  into  which  the  choir  and  nave 
of  the  edifice  have  been  converted.  The  choir,  which  is  the 
oldest  part  and  of  Norman  architecture,  is  used  as  a  chapel  for 
the  soldiers,  and  the  nave  as  one  of  the  parish  churches  of  the 
city.  Both  are  in  use,  and  services  are  held  in  them  at  the  same 
hours.  The  military  church  is  under  the  English  government, 
and  of  course  the  service  is  Episcopalian  ;  while  the  other  is 
Scotch  Presbyterian.  Of  course  the  church  was  originally  Ro- 
man Catholic,  but  in  the  old  times  John  Knox  often  preached 
there.  How  little  endures  !  One  set  of  people  exist  and  build 
and  occupy.  Here  their  saints  are  made,  die,  and  are  buried, 
and  the  stones  become  sacred  to  their  memory.  But  by-and-by 
other  people  come  into  possession.  In  a  day  the  accumulated 
sanctities  are  despoiled,  and,  as  it  were,  evaporate.  Nothing 
but  the  soil  stands  secure  from  mutation  and  danger.  In  a 
place  like  this  we  realize  the  force  of  the  statement :  "  One 
generation  goeth  an<l  another  cumeth,  but  the  earth  abideth 
forever." 

Near  by  is  Guildhall.     At  the  house  adjoining  we  make  our 


214  SCOTLAND. 

desires  known,  and  the  young  lady  attendant,  key  in  hand,  ac- 
companies us  to  the  old  room,  which  is  perhaps  thirty  feet  wide, 
fifty  feet  long,  and  twenty  feet  high.  The  quintessence  of  anti- 
quity is  here.  Imagination  in  full  play  could  conceive  nothing 
more  fascinatingly  mediaeval.  Dimly  lighted,  the  heavy  oak 
finish  looked  the  more  quaint  and  feudalistic.  What  things  of 
interest  we  behold  !  Here  are  pictures  which  centuries  have  mel- 
lowed, and  here,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  is  the  pulpit  in  which 
John  Knox  preached  a  memorable  sermon  at  the  coronation  of 
the  infant  king,  James  VI.,  Aug.  29,  1567.  It  is  octagonal,  and 
made  of  oak ;  and  only  the  upper  part,  or  that  in  which  the 
preacher  stood,  is  left,  its  floor  resting  upon  the  floor  of  the 
hall.  We  stood  in  it,  and,  like  John  Knox  on  a  certain  occa- 
sion, pronounced  the  text,  "  Put  not  your  trust  in  princes,  nor 
in  the  son  of  man  in  whom  there  is  no  help." 

Here  was  an  old  Crusader's  hat,  which  we  tried  on.  It  is 
large,  not  much  decayed,  has  a  broad  brim,  and  is  made  of  soft 
felt ;  in  fact  it  is  what  is  now  called  a  slouched  hat.  Near  by  is 
a  burial-ground,  unlike  anything  we  had  ever  seen.  It  contains 
some  two  or  three  acres,  has  through  the  central  part  a  roman- 
tic ravine,  and  in  it  are  monuments  and  old  statues  embowered 
in  trees.  Adjoining  it  is  a  lofty  elevation  of  natural  stone,  from 
which  are  charming  views.  There  are  monuments  devoted  to 
the  martyrs  who  died  in  defence  of  principle.  The  gravestones 
are  thick,  and  the  place  contains  but  few  things  that  can  be 
paralleled  elsewhere.  There  are  fine  trees,  thick  shrubbery,  and 
an  atmosphere  of  romance. 

Off  at  a  distance  of  a  mile  or  so,  accessible  by  horse-cars,  is 
the  Wallace  Monument,  standing  on  Moncrief,  like  a  lone  senti- 
nel. Moncrief  is  a  piece  of  ground  quite  park-like  in  its  aspect ; 
a  good  avenue  is  graded  for  a  quarter  -mile  through  the  woods, 
winding  so  as  to  make  an  easy  ascent  to  the  summit,  which  is  a 
very  small  level  table-land.  The  entire  city  is  visible,  with  the 
castle  as  a  background  ;  and  off  to  the  right,  in  the  distance,  are 
the  famed  Highlands.  In  the  near  foreground  is  the  river,  with 
a  background  of  woods.  Here  and  there  are  villages  and  ham- 
lets, and  Bannockburn  is  seen  to  best  advantage,  and  places 
where  battles  were  fought  by  Wallace  and  Bruce.  The  monu- 
ment stands  at  the  centre  of  the  table-land,  which  is  226  feet 
above  the  streets  of  the  city.  The  monument  is  square  in  plan, 
about  40  feet  on  each  side,  and  200  feet  high.  It  is  built  of 
brown  stone,  with  trimmings  that  resemble  granite.  It  is  of  a 
castellated  design,  and  in  appearance  is  hundreds  of  years  old, 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  215 

though  in  reality  it  has  been  finished  but  six  years.  The  keep- 
er's house  adjoins  it,  and  is  incorporated  into  the  structure. 
Either  the  castle,  the  Wallace  Monument,  the  old  church,  the 
Guildhall,  or  near  burial-ground  amply  repay  the  effort  re- 
quired to  make  a  visit  to  Stirling.  The  monument  was  erected 
to  the  memory  of  Wallace,  as  its  name  implies,  and  a  few  words 
concerning  him  may  be  of  interest. 

William  Wallace  was  born  in  1276.  He  had  a  fierce  and 
warlike  disposition,  and,  while  at  the  high-school  at  Dundee,  he 
stabbed  the  son  of  the  English  governor  of  Dundee  Castle,  and 
fled.  For  a  long  time  he  was  an  outlaw  and  dwelt  in  the  fast- 
nesses of  Scotland.  He  had  great  personal  accomplishments, 
and  many  persons  became  his  followers.  He  organized  an  army, 
and  held  it  in  readiness  for  invasions.  An  insurrection  having 
broken  out  in  1297,  when  he  was  but  twenty-one  years  old,  he 
attacked  an  English  Count  at  Scone,  took  many  prisoners,  and 
killed  many  more.  Under  his  direction,  Sir  William  Douglas 
surprised  and  compelled  the  English  garrisons  of  Durisdeer  and 
Sanquhar,  which  were  holding  the  castles,  to  surrender.  So 
great  was  his  intrepidity  and  daring,  and  so  formidable  had  his 
army  become,  that  Edward  I.  —  the  sovereign  against  whom  he 
was  fighting,  and  to  whom  the  people  of  Scotland  were  opposed 
—  sent  40,000  men  and  cavalry,  under  command  of  Sir  Henry 
Percy  and  Sir  Robert  Clifford,  to  oppose  him.  Wallace  made 
an  attack  on  them  when  they  arrived,  but  was  repulsed  and  fell 
back  to  Irvine  in  Ayrshire.  Soon  after  this,  however,  disputes 
arose  among  the  Scottish  leaders,  which  resulted  in  an  agree- 
ment which  Wallace  and  Murray  did  not  approve ;  so  they 
retired  into  the  northern  countries,  quickly  recruited  a  formida- 
ble army,  and  surprised  and  captured  the  English  garrisons  at 
Aberdeen,  Dunnottar,  Forfar,  and  Montrose.  Wallace  had  also 
begun  a  siege  at  Dundee  ;  but  being  informed  of  the  advance  of 
a  large  English  force  in  the  direction  of  Stirling,  he  abandoned 
the  siege,  and,  gathering  adherents  as  he  went,  reached  Stirling 
with  40,000  foot  and  180  horse.  The  English  mustered  50,000 
foot  and  1,000  horse,  under  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  Messengers, 
deserters  from  the  Scottish  army,  were  sent  to  persuade  Wallace 
to  capitulate,  and  a  free  pardon  was  unconditionally  offered,  but 
the  overtures  were  rejected.  The  English  crossed  the  river, 
and  the  noted  battle  of  Cambuskenneth  was  fought  near  Stirling 
Bridge,  Sept.  10,  1297.  The  result  was  that  the  English  were 
driven  to  Berwi<  k,  almost  completely  cut  to  pieces.  Inflated  by 
success,  Wallace,  by  general  consent,  —  in  the  absence  of  the 


21G  SCOTLAND. 

lawful  monarch,  King  John,  who  was  then  confined  in  the  Tower 
of  London,  —  was  declared  guardian  of  Scotland.  A  severe 
famine  followed,  and  Wallace,  to  obtain  supplies,  invaded  the 
northern  counties  of  England.  He  laid  waste  the  country, 
returned  with  his  spoils,  and  began  to  reorganize  Scotland. 
Edward,  smarting  under  the  terrible  defeat,  and  realizing  the 
insecurity  of  his  possessions  near  the  border,  raised  an  army 
of  80,000  infantry  and  7,000  horse.  A  portion  of  the  force 
landed  by  sea  on  the  northeast  coast,  and  there  suffered  a  re- 
verse ;  but  the  main  body  advanced  by  land  northward,  and  on 
July  22,  1298,  met  the  Scottish  forces  at  Falkirk,  where  a  deci- 
sive battle  was  fought,  and  Wallace's  army  was  deflated  with  a 
loss  of  15,000.  This  was  really  the  fall  of  his  remarkable  power. 
He  was  only  22  years  old,  and  from  this  time  carried  on  a 
guerilla  warfare  for  several  years,  until  at  length  he  went  to  Paris 
to  seek  French  intervention.  In  1304  he  was  declared  an  out- 
law, large  rewards  were  offered  by  King  Edward  for  his  arrest, 
and  he  was  immediately  betrayed  by  Sir  John  Menteith.  The 
day  after  his  arrival  in  London,  the  form  of  a  trial  was  gone 
through  with  at  Westminster,  and  in  derision  of  his  pretensions 
he  was  decorated  with  a  crown  of  laurel.  He  was  Condemned 
to  death,  and  the  same  day,  Aug.  23,  1305,  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
five,  he  was  dragged  at  the  tails  of  horses  to  Smithfield,  and 
there  hung,  drawn,  and  quartered ;  his  head  being  sent  to  Lon- 
don bridge,  where  it  was  perched  on  the  top  of  the  Southwark 
Tower,  while  his  other  limbs  were  exposed  to  the  anathemas  of 
the  populace  at  Newcastle,  Berwick,  Perth,  and  at  Stirling,  the 
seat  of  his  daring  deeds.  It  is  for  this  patriot  that  this  lofty 
monument  was  erected,  5  70  years  after  the  close  of  his  eventful 
life,  which  also  gives  a  basis  for  Burns's  "  Scots  wha  hae  wi' 
Wallace  bled  ! " 

The  castle  is  now  used  for  barracks ;  and  at  the  time  of 
our  visit  some  hundreds  of  men  were  here  stationed,  —  all  of 
that  robust  nature  for  which  English  soldiers  are  celebrated.  A 
sad  waste  of  the  flower  of  Great  Britain,  and  the  day  is  not  far 
distant  when  the  mistake  will  be  seen.  The  ambition  for  in- 
creased territory  is  one  of  England's  elements  of  weakness.  Too 
much  distant  territory  is  breaking  her  down.  Soldiers  are 
everywhere  required  to  maintain  possession.  This  takes  her 
picked  men,  and  the  people  must  be  taxed  to  feed  an  army  of 
drones. 

We  were  especially  interested  in  one  thing  here.  The 
ground,  within  the  castle  walls,  is  paved  with   small   cobble- 


STIRLING    CASTLE.  2l7 

stones,  like  our  gutters.  Springing  up  among  them  were 
knot-grass  and  small  weeds.  Three  or  four  soldiers,  with  sharp- 
pointed  case-knives,  were  digging  up  this  grass,  scrupulously  re- 
moving every  trace  of  it.  We  asked  why  this  was  being  done, 
and  were  informed  that  it  was  a  punishment.  For  infraction  of 
some  rule  soldiers  were  sentenced  to  this  menial  work  —  in  the 
presence  of  comrades  and  visitors  —  for  a  day,  or  perhaps  a 
week ;  and  some  were  also  deprived  of  dinner.  The  misde- 
meanor might  have  been  not  returning  at  the  proper  time 
when  off  by  permission,  being  drunk  while  away,  insubordi- 
nation, deceiving  officers,  uncleanliness,  or  neglect  of  accou- 
trements. 

We  have  devoted  much  attention  to  Stirling,  for  it  is  con- 
nected with  events  not  only  in  the  history  of  Scotland,  but  of 
England  as  well. 

At  12.30  p.m.  the  day  after  arrival,  Tuesday,  June  4,  we 
took  train  for  Edinburgh,  the  chief  city  of  Scotland,  and  in 
many  respects  one  of  the  finest  cities  in  the  world.  The  ride 
from  Stirling  is  through  a  pleasant  country,  much  like  that  be- 
tween 'Worcester  and  Springfield.  It  is  but  an  hour  and  a  half 
before  we  see  the  spreading  smoke-cloud,  and  we  know  from 
experience  that  there  is  the  city.  The  suburbs  remind  one  of 
an  approach  to  Baltimore,  Washington,  and  other  Southern  cities. 
Most  of  the  houses  are  brick,  and  two  stories  high.  All  are 
dingy,  though  not  very  ancient  or  peculiar  in  design.  We  are 
at  a  central  point  in  Scotland,  but  we  see  nothing  intensely  out- 
landish. 

American  tourists  mistake  in  supposing  everything  to  be 
unlike  home.  Most  things  are  such  as  are  familiar,  or  not  suffi- 
ciently eccentric  to  arouse  astonishment.  The  press,  pictures,  and 
travel  compel  interchange  of  ideas  and  methods.  They  are 
common  levellers,  producing  wonderful  uniformity  in  buildings, 
dress,  and  habits.  All  these  tend  to  oneness,  and  help  to  make 
"  the  whole  world  kin."  Strange  objects  are  exceptional.  They 
belong  to  other  days,  and  are  interesting  to  their  possessors  and 
the  present  generation  —  as  they  are  to  us,  who  have  come 
from  a  longer  distance  to  see  them  —  as  curiosities.  History 
is  common  property.  Bunker  Hill  has  an  interest  to  the  intelli- 
gent Scotchman,  that  Bannockburn  has  to  us. 

Hut  we  are  at  Edinburgh,  and  ready  to  say,  as  was  said  of 
Jerusalem  of  old  :  "  Beautiful  for  situation  is  Mount  Zion,  the 
joy  of  the  whole  earth." 


218  SCOTLAND. 


EDINBURGH. 

The  name  was  probably  given  to  it  by  Edwin,  king  of  North- 
umbria,  about  the  year  449,  and  for  more  than  four  hundred 
years  afterwards  it  remained  little  better  than  a  village  of  mud- 
and-fagot  houses,  collected  on  Castle  Hill.  In  854,  more  than 
a  thousand  years  ago,  Simon  of  Durham  speaks  of  it  as  a  village 
of  importance.  In  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century 
Alexander  II.  held  a  parliament  here,  and  this  fact  gave  the 
place  so  much  importance  in  the  reign  of  David  II.  that  it  was 
the  chief  place  in  Scotland.  In  1384,  Froissart,  a  French  histo- 
rian, visited  it,  and  speaks  of  it  as  the  Paris  of  Scotland.  The 
assassination  of  James  I.  (of  Scotland)  at  Perth,  in  1437,  led  to 
the  selection  of  Edinburgh  as  the  capital  of  the  kingdom. 
James  II.  caused  it  to  be  walled  in. 

The  place  now  has  a  population  of  196,600.  It  comprises 
two  distinct  parts,  the  old  and  the  new,  and  these  are  separated,  a 
half-mile  or  more,  by  a  deep  ravine  which,  however,  is  under 
the  highest  state  of  cultivation,  and  used  as  a  park.  As  one 
stands  at  a  central  point  on  the  elegant  avenue  of  the  new  por- 
tion, in  front  of  him  is  this  ravine  ;  and  beyond  this  is  the  Old 
City  with  its  dark-colored,  quaint,  ten-storied  buildings  pierced 
with  many  windows.  Innumerable  gables  present  themselves, 
the  stories  often  jutting  out  over  each  other;  and  the  com- 
pact buildings  rise  in  the  rear,  generally  conforming  to  the  slope 
of  the  land.  On  the  extreme  right  on  the  further  side  is  the 
castle,  at  a  very  rocky  elevation,  and  forms  a  fit  termination  to 
the  aggregation  of  sombre  houses. 

At  the  extreme  left  of  the  Old  City,  and  terminating  it,  are 
the  lofty  elevations  known  as  Salisbury  Crags  and  Arthur's 
Seat.  These  seem  to  be  veritable  mountains,  and  their  blue 
haze  adds  a  charm  nowhere  else  to  be  seen  near  a  great  city. 
At  the  lower  end,  in  front  of  the  crags,  the  land  is  level,  and  the 
city  extends  around  to  Calton  Hill,  another  grand  eminence. 
The  old  part  of  the  city  and  the  new  are  well  matched.  This 
new  part  is  covered  with  important  buildings  and  grand  avenues. 
Among  the  former  are  structures  of  Grecian  architecture,  for  mu- 
seums and  art-galleries.  The  thoroughfare  on  which  we  stand, 
Princes  Street,  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world.  It  is  wide 
and  level,  and  has  fine  buildings  along  its  whole  length  on  the 
side  opposite  the  park,  and  so  facing  the  old  city.  At  its  centre, 
near  the  park  fence,  is  the  noted  monument  to  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


EDINBURGH.  219 

Throughout  the  New  City  many  of  the  brown  stone  houses 
are  of  classic  architecture  ;  and  while  there  is  an  absence  of  the 
light  effect,  in  color  and  design,  of  the  buildings  in  Paris,  yet 
there  is  an  air  of  comfort  that  well  compensates  for  this  lack, 
and  speaks  distinctly  of  those  traits  for  which  the  reliable  and 
thoughtful  Scotch  are  celebrated.  The  world  furnishes  no 
better  counterpart  to  Paris  than  Edinburgh.  The  ravine  was  for 
centuries  a  lake;  but  it  was  drained  in  1788,  and  afterwards 
turned  into  gardens.  The  foundation  of  the  first  house  in  the 
New  City  was  laid  Oct.  26,  1767,  just  106  years  ago,  by  Mr. 
Craig,  who  was  the  general  engineer  of  the  New  Town.  He  was 
a  nephew  of  Thomson  the  poet,  author  of  "  The  Seasons." 
From  that  time  to  the  present  the  city  has  been  extending  in  all 
directions.  We  can  name  but  few  of  its  interesting  points,  for 
Edinburgh  is  not  only  a  place  of  deposit  for  objects  of  interest, 
but  is  a  museum  of  itself. 

Calton  Hill  is  at  the  lower  end  of  the  New  Town.  There 
a  road  winds  to  the  top,  a  sort  of  pasture,  from  which 
a  comprehensive  view  of  Edinburgh  is  to  be  had,  as  well  as 
an  extensive  view  of  the  country  outside.  From  this  emi- 
nence is  seen  the  Frith  of  Forth,  an  arm  of  the  sea  two  miles 
away.  The  island  of  Inchkeith  nestles  cosily  in  it,  and  the 
long  pier  of  Leith,  a  city  of  56,000  inhabitants,  stretches  itself 
out  into  its  waters.  The  imposing  Orchil  Hills  form  the  back- 
ground, and  in  a  clear  day  Ben  Lomond  and  Ben  Ledi  loom 
up  majestically.  The  city  extends  well  up  and  around  the 
base  of  Calton  Hill.  At  one  part  of  the  grounds  is  an  amphi- 
theatre-like spot,  given  to  the  citizens  by  James  II.  as  an  arena 
for  tournaments.  The  sides  are  called  Caltoun  Craigs  and 
Greenside.  According  to  the  marvel-loving  Pennant,  it  was 
here  that  the  Earl  of  Bothwell  made  his  first  impression  on 
Queen  Mary,  by  the  daring  feat  of  galloping  his  horse  down 
the  precipitous  face  of  the  hill.  The  most  prominent  objects 
are  Nelson's  Monument  and  the  National  Monument.  The 
former  is  on  a  rocky  elevation,  350  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is 
a  square  structure  with  embattled  bastions  at  the  corners, 
the  whole  of  castellated  design  ;  and  from  the  centre  rises  a 
round  tower,  crowned  by  a  circular  lantern  of  less  diameter,  the 
whole  100  feet  high.  At  the  top  is  a  flagstaff,  from  which  a  large 
ball  drops  at  one  o'clock,  Greenwich  time,  moved  by  mechanism 
in  the  Royal  Observatory.  The  time-gun  is  fired  from  the 
castle  at  the  same  moment,  so  that  all  within  seeing  or  hearing 
distance  are  apprised  of  the  hour. 


220  SCOTLAND. 

The  National  Monument  was  begun  in  1816,  the  propo- 
sition being  to  erect  a  structure  in  imitation  of  the  Parthenon  at 
Athens,  as  a  memorial  of  soldiers  who  fell  at  Waterloo.  Thirty 
thousand  dollars  were  subscribed  at  the  first  public  meeting.  An 
attempt  was  made  to  place  the  affair  under  the  patronage  of 
George  IV.,  and  the  interest  declined.  The  foundation  was 
laid  in  1822,  and  remained  untouched  till  1824,  —  when,  with 
$67,500  on  hand,  work  was  resumed.  All  the  money  was 
expended,  as  was  the  case  with  the  New  York  Court-house 
in  the  structure  of  white  marble,  the  three  colossal  steps,  and  the 
ten  columns  in  front,  with  the  two  flanking  pillars  on  each  side, 
together  with  the  architrave,  or  horizontal  stones,  upon  them. 
To  this  day  it  remains  in  this  condition.  The  general  sentiment 
seems  to  be  that  this  unfinished  building,  mute  in  its  solitary 
grandeur,  is  a  more  appropriate  memorial  than  a  completed 
building  could  be. 

There  is  a  monument  to  Dugald  Stewart,  the  distinguished 
professor  of  mathematics,  and  afterwards  of  moral  philosophy,  in 
Edinburgh  University  ;  and  another  to  John  Playfair,  also  a  pro- 
fessor of  mathematics,  well  known  the  civilized  world  over. 

The  Burns  Monument  at  the  base  of  the  hill  is  a  stone  struc- 
ture some  forty  feet  square,  surmounted  by  a  circular  section 
surrounded  by  Corinthian  columns,  on  which  is  a  pedestal, 
crowned  by  a  low  dome  and  terminated  by  four  griffins.  For  a 
small  admission  fee  we  were  admitted,  and  were  charmed  by 
the  relics  exposed  to  view,  once  the  property  of  the  Scottish 
Bard.  It  is  useless  to  attempt  to  name  them,  but  many  were 
linked  with  a  melancholy  interest  to  a  poet,  whose  life,  like  that 
of  Keats,  "  was  writ  in  water." 

Sir  Walter  Scott's  Monument  is  doubtless  the  finest  in  the 
world.  It  is  built  of  brown  sandstone,  in  elaborate  Gothic  archi- 
tecture, and  is  two  hundred  feet  high.  It  was  erected  in  1844, 
at  an  expense  of  $80,500,  from  a  competitive  design  furnished 
by  George  Meikle  Kemp,  a  young  self-taught  architect  of  great 
promise,  who  died  before  the  monument's  completion,  he 
having  been  drowned  in  the  Union  Canal,  when  going  home 
one  dark  night.  Beneath  the  open  Gothic  rotunda,  with  its 
groined  arches,  is  the  colossal  marble  statue  of  Sir  Walter,  in 
a  sitting  posture,  by  John  Steell.  Many  of  the  niches  on  the 
exterior  are  occupied  by  statues  of  characters  in  Scott's  ro- 
mances. At  the  centre  of  the  great  monument,  and  up  100 
feet  from  the  base,  is  a  room  in  which  are  relics  of  the  great 
bard;  and  near  the  top,  at  the  height  of  175  feet,  is  a  gallery 


EDINBURGH.  221 

on  the  outside  of  the  monument,  from  which  are  fine  views  of 
the  city.  As  one  looks  down  on  the  busy  mass  below ;  when 
he  sees  the  ruins  of  this  animated  map  spread  out  beneath  him, 
—  hills,  ravine,  parks,  monuments,  princely  edifices,  as  the  busy 
hum  of  life  surges  up  to  him,  —  he  loses  sight  of  "  the  good 
time  coming,"  and  is  satisfied  with  that  which  has  come  already. 

Holyrood  Palace  is  situated  on  the  level  ground  between 
Calton  Hill  and  Salisbury  Crags,  the  portion  connecting  the 
old  and  new  parts  of  the  city.  The  edifice  is  built  of  a 
brown  freestone,  and  the  palace  is  open  to  visitors  for  a  small 
fee.  The  only  portion  of  great  antiquity  is  the  northwest 
tower,  in  which  are  the  original  Queen  Mary  apartments,  erected 
by  James  V.,  who  died  in  1542.  Long  ago  abandoned  as  a 
place  of  royal  residence,  this  palace,  when  it  is  now  used 
at  all,  is  occupied  by  the  clergy  of  the  Presbyterian,  or  the 
established  Church  of  Scotland,  at  the  time  of  their  annual 
convocation,  which  lasts  about  two  weeks.  Here  the  minis- 
ters are  entertained  during  their  stay.  How  passing  strange  ! 
The  home  of  rulers  distinguished  for  hostility  to  anything  but  a 
ceremonial  religion  is  now  used  as  the  house  of  convocation  for 
strong  Dissenters  !  Much  of  it  is  vacant.  We  go  first  into 
the  picture-gallery,  which  was  the  banquet-hall.  It  was  in  this 
room  that  Charles  I.,  when  but  a  prince,  held  grand  levees.  The 
room  is  150  feet  long  and  27  feet  wide,  elegantly  finished  in 
oak.  Here  are  pictures  of  106  Scottish  sovereigns,  from  Fergus 
to  James  VII.  They  are  mostly  fancy  portraits,  and  painted  by 
order  of  Charles  II.  to  flatter  the  vanity  of  the  pleasure-seeking 
king.  Their  merits  are  delicately  hinted  in  the  wonderment  of 
Christopher  Croftangier,  that  each  and  all  of  the  Scottish  kings 
should  have  "  a  nose  like  the  knocker  of  a  door."  The  paint- 
ings more  recently  added  are  genuine.  There  are  rooms  which 
remain  furnished  as  they  were  centuries  ago.  Among  them  is 
Lord  Darnley's  Chamber,  and  here  are  many  relics  of  Queen 
Mary,  and  a  portrait  of  1  )arnley  when  a  youth.  From  this  room 
is  the  private  staircase  by  which  Rizzio's  assassins  ascended  to 
Mary's  apartments  above.  The  murder  of  Rizzio  is  conspicu- 
ous in  the  annals  of  Scotland. 

Henry  Stuart  Darnley  was  the  second  husband  of  Mary,  Queen 
of  Scots.  When  it  became  known  that  the  queen  proposed  to 
marry  again,  Darnley,  who  was  possessed  of  a  very  handsome 
person  and  accomplished  in  many  of  the  fine  arts  of  the  day, 
proceeded  to  Scotland,  urged  his  suit,  and  was  accepted.  The 
marriage  took  place   in   the  chapel   of  Holyrood,  adjoining   the 


222  SCOTLAND. 

palace,  July  29,  1565.  "  He  was,"  says  Randolph,  "  conceited, 
arrogant,  and  an  intolerable  fool."  He  was  overbearing,  and 
towards  Mary  was  petulant  and  insolent.  He  repaid  her  kind- 
ness by  profligacy  and  infidelity,  and  finally  alienated  her 
affections  by  participating  in  the  murder  of  her  secretary,  the 
Italian   Rizzio,  March  9,  1566,  within  a  year  after  marriage. 

While  she  and  Rizzio  were  together  in  the  Queen's  apartment, 
Darnley  rushed  in,  and  held  the  Queen  while  Ruthven,  George- 
Douglas,  and  other  conspirators  stabbed  Rizzio.  Mary  pleaded 
with  loud  cries  for  the  life  of  her  favorite  secretary  ;  but,  hearing 
that  he  was  dead,  she  dried  her  tears  and  said  :  "  I  will  now 
have  revenge.  I  will  never  rest  till  I  give  you  as  sorrowful  a 
heart  as  I  have  at  this  present."  Darnley  afterwards  repented, 
and  aided  Mary  in  driving  his  confederates  from  the  kingdom  ;  but 
his  vices  and  follies  were  deep-seated,  and  the  breach  widened. 
On  the  19th  of  June  of  this  same  year  their  son  James  (after- 
wards James  I.  of  England)  was  born.  In  the  next  January, 
Darnley  was  taken  with  the  smallpox,  and  removed  to  a  house 
which  stood  by  itself  at  a  place  called  the  Kirk  of  Field,  near  Edin- 
burgh, it  being  feared  that  if  he  remained  at  Holyrood  Palace 
he  might  communicate  the  disease  to  the  young  prince.  The 
Queen  visited  him  a  few  times  during  his  sickness,  and  mani- 
fested apparent  sympathy.  On  the  night  of  February  9  the 
house  was  blown  up  with  gunpowder,  and  the  dead  bodies  of 
Darnley  and  his  servant  were  found  in  a  mangled  condition  not 
far  from  the  ruins.  Bothwell,  already  the  Queen's  lover,  was  the 
chief  actor  in  this  tragedy,  and  in  three  months  they  were  mar- 
ried. The  room  of  most  interest  is  the  apartment  of  Queen 
Mary.  This,  like  some  of  the  other  rooms,  is  finished  with  a 
heavy-panelled  oak  ceiling,  and  has  an  uncarpeted  oak  floor. 
There  is  also  rich  panel-work  about  the  deeply  recessed  windows 
and  doors.  The  room  is  not  large,  —  about  18  feet  by  20  feet 
square,  and  12  feet  high.  It  contains  a  few  chairs,  a  table,  and 
bed,  —  the  latter  with  high  corner  posts,  square  framework  at 
the  top,  and  a  canopy  of  red  tapestry  silk.  Though  three 
hundred  years  have  passed  since  their  owner  died,  the  furniture, 
together  with  the  mattress  and  richly  embroidered  quilts,  are 
still  in  a  fair  state  of  preservation,  and  the  bed  appears  ready 
for  instant  use.  It  was  in  this  room  that  the  Queen  held 
many  angry  disputations  with  her  hated  opponent,  John  Knox. 
She  is  reported  at  one  time  to  have  demanded  of  the  reformer, 
"  Think  you  that  subjects,  having  the  power,  may  resist  their 
princes?  "  and  to  have  received  the  bold  reply,  intrepid  as  the 


EDINBURGH.  223 

heart  of  him  whose  brain  conceived  it,  "  If  princes  exceed  their 
bounds,  madam,  no  doubt  they  may  be  resisted  with  power." 

At  another  interview  the  Queen  turned  her  back  in  derision 
of  her  faithful  attendants.  Knox,  who  never  let  slip  a  chance 
to  fight  the  "  beasts  at  Ephesus,"  addressed  himself  to  the 
maids  of  honor  and  remarked  :  "  O  fair  ladies,  how  pleasing 
were  this  lyfe  of  yours  if  it  would  always  abyde,  and  then  in 
the  end  we  might  pass  to  heaven  with  all  this  gay  gear.  But  fye 
upon  that  knave  Death,  that  will  come,  wheddir  we  will  or  not." 

On  the  adjoining  premises  are  ruins  replete  with  interest. 
Both  Holyrood  palace  and  chapel  are  thought-inducing.  Be- 
neath this  roof,  within  these  walls,  have  been  concocted  schemes 
which  have  influenced  the  destinies  of  the  world.  That  chapel, 
now  a  glorious  ruin,  was  consecrated  a  thousand  years  ago  by 
the  prayers  and  resolves  and  sacrifices  of  pious  monks,  and  later 
by  deposits  of  dust,  which  once  made  the  world  tremble.  There 
is  an  impassable  gulf  between  that  day  and  this.  Scarcely  more 
appreciative  than  the  mantling  ivy  or  the  crumbling  stones,  or 
the  inanimate  dust  of  regal  sleepers,  are  we  concerning  past 
realities.     At  best  we  but  "  see  through  a  glass  darkly." 

The  abbey  ruins  at  Holyrood,  and  almost  adjoining  the  pal- 
ace, are  enchanting.  The  walls  of  the  building  are  nearly 
whole,  and  reasonably  free  from  decay,  and  have  been  in  their 
present  condition  for  centuries.  Ivy  clambers  over  large  por- 
tions of  it.  The  rich  door-work  is  almost  entire,  and  many 
windows,  save  the  glass,  are  perfect,  and  the  carpet  is  of  thick 
grass. 

Here  Charles  I.  was  crowned  king  of  Scotland,  and  also  James 
II.  and  James  III.  Mary  and  Darnley  were  married  here  ;  and 
within  these  walls  the  Papal  Legate  presented  to  James  IV., 
from  Pope  Julius  II.,  the  sword  of  state,  which  is  preserved 
among  the  regalia  of  Scotland. 

The  last  time  the  chapel  was  used  for  worship  was  in  the  reign 
of  James  VII.,  who  had  Mass  celebrated  in  it,  —  whicli 
excited  the  populace  to  its  destruction  at  the  Revolution.  Sev- 
eral of  the  kings  of  Scotland  were  buried  in  the  monastery,  but 
the  remains  were  desecrated  by  die  mob  of  168S  ;  and  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  bones  of  David  II.,  who  died  Feb.  22, 
1370,  James  II.,  who  died  in  1460,  James  V.,  who  died  Dec.  13, 
1542,  Darnley,  who  died  Feb.  9,  1567,  are  now  in  the  royal 
vault.  Rizzio,  by  command  of  Queen  Mary,  was  at  first  interred 
in  this  tomb,  hut.  to  prevent  s<  andal,  he  was  afterwards  removed 
to  that  part  of  the  chapel  nearest  the  palace. 


224  SCOTLAND. 

In  the  centre  of  the  square  in  front  of  the  palace  is  a  large  and 
elaborate  fountain,  a  copy  of  one  that  stood  in  the  court  of  Lin- 
lithgow Palace.  The  spot  was  once  occupied  by  a  statue  of 
the  Queen,  which  is  said  to  have  been  so  ugly  that,  at  her 
majesty's  request,  it  was  buried  six  feet  deep  in  the  courtyard  of 
the  royal  stables.  Perhaps  it  will  some  day  be  exhumed, 
and  become  a  puzzle  to  the  archaeologists  of  distant  centuries. 
In  the  garden  is  a  curious  sun-dial,  described  as  Queen  Mary's, 
but  really  of  later  date,  for  it  was  constructed  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  I.  The  apex  of  the  pedestal  has  twenty  sides,  on  each 
of  which  is  a  dial.  .Outside  the  palace  gate  is  a  circular  building 
known  as  Queen  Mary's  Bath,  where  she  is  reported  to  have 
enhanced  her  charms  by  bathing  in  white  wine.  It  was  by 
this  lodge  that  Rizzio's  assassins  made  their  escape.  During 
some  repairs  in  1789  a  richly  inlaid  dagger  was  found  sticking  in 
a  part  of  the  roof.  It  was  of  very  antique  form,  and  corroded 
with  rust.  The  presumption  is  that  it  was  concealed  there  by 
the  conspirators. 

Next  demanding  attention  are  the  highlands  near  the  lower 
end  of  the  city,  and  back  of  the  older  part.  These  are  within  a 
few  minutes'  walk  of  the  main  streets,  and  make  a  lofty  back- 
ground called  Salisbury  Crags.  They  are  very  bluff-like  on 
the  side  towards  the  town  ;  but  the  top  and  rear  are  more  level, 
and  covered  with  grass,  and  a  grand  avenue  is  graded  circu- 
itously  to  the  table-land,  from  which  there  are  remarkable 
views  of  the  entire  city,  for  this  point  is  576  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea.  As  one  looks  at  this  elevation  from  the  city,  it  has  a 
dark  appearance,  and  is  enveloped  in  that  blue  haze,  or  atmos- 
phere, so  peculiar  to  our  Blue  Hills  at  Milton.  In  the  rear  of 
this  table-land,  perhaps  an  eighth  of  a  mile  away,  is  Arthur's 
Seat,  822  feet  above  the  sea-level, —  247  feet  higher  than  the 
table-land  of  the  Crags.  The  macadamized  avenue  continues 
as  far  as  this,  and  from  the  summit  are  visible  twelve  counties 
and  innumerable  mountain  peaks,  and  among  them  the  Gram- 
pian Hills. 

The  Old  City  lies  stretched  out  from  the  highlands,  and  it  is 
entertaining  to  the  most  ardent  antiquary,  although  great  changes 
have  taken  place.  Here  are  buildings  varying  from  four  to  ten 
stories  in  height,  with  gables  to  the  street,  and  over-jutting 
stories  in  abundance.  We  think  of  this  main  street  as  it 
must  have  been  in  the  days  of  the  Stuarts,  when  these  pro- 
jecting gables,  over-jutting  windows,  and  hanging  stairs  were 
gayly   decorated  with  flags    and    streamers,  and    the  roadway 


EDINBURGH.  225 

was  thronged  with  spectators  as  some  royal  pageant  passed 
along. 

Peculiar  to  this  street  are  its  closes,  or  wynds.  These  are 
spaces  in  the  rear  of  the  front  buildings,  surrounded  by 
tenements,  and  having  a  contracted  opening  from  the  main  street. 
They  are  occupied  by  a  low  class  of  people,  but  were  formerly 
the  residences  of  distinguished  persons. 

Riddle's  Close  is  one,  in  which  David  Hume  began  his 
History  of  England,  though  he  finished  it  in  another  part  of 
the  city,  Jack's  Land,  in  the  Canongate.  At  the  end  of  the 
place  is  a  house  once  belonging  to  Bailie  MacMoran,  who 
was  shot  dead  by  the  high-school  boys  in  1598,  when  he  was 
attempting  to  restore  subordination  during  a  barring-out. 

Farther  down  is  Brodie's  Close,  named  for  Deacon  Brodie, 
who  was  executed  for  a  daring  burglary  in  1788.  Till  the 
very  eve  of  his  trial  he  was  a  citizen  of  renown,  considered 
exemplary  and  pious ;  but  it  was  proved  beyond  question  that 
for  years  he  had  been  concerned  in  extensive  robberies. 

Lady  Stair's  Close  is  near  by,  and  is  named  for  Lady 
Elizabeth  Stair.  While  her  first  husband,  Viscount  Primrose 
was  abroad,  that  singular  event  happened  which  is  so  well 
described  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  story,  "My  Aunt  Margaret's 
Mirror."  She  occupied  the  house  in  the  close  where  the  date, 
1622,  is  over  the  doorway. 

Baxter's  Close  contains  the  first  lodging  occupied  by  Robert 
Burns,  in  1 786.  He  stayed  with  his  friend  John  Richmond,  who 
was  a  law  student  and  clerk,  and  they  two  were  the  only 
persons  in  the  house.  On  the  opposite  side  is  a  house,  bearing 
on  its  front,  in  Gothic  letters,  one  of  those  legends  that  the  custom 
of  those  days  sanctioned  : 

BLISST  —  BE  —  THE  —  LORD  —  IN  —  HlS  —  GIFTIS  — 
FOR  —  NOV  —  AND  —  EviR. 

Near  this  spot  is  the  chapel  called  the  Maison  Dieu.  It  was 
in  this  that  the  General  Assembly  met  in  1578,  when  perpetual 
banishment  was  given  to  high  ecclesiastical  titles.     The  act  was 

as  follows  :  — 

It  is  here  concludid  that  Bischopes  sould  be  callit  be  thair  awin 
names,  or  be  the  names  of  Breither  in  all  tyme  coming,  and  that 
lordlie  name  and  authoritie  be  banissed  from  the  kirk  of  God,  quhilk 
hes  bot  ae  Lord  Chryst  Jesus. 

In  this  chapel,  in  1661,  the  martyred  Marquis  of  Argyle  lay  in 
state  for  some  days,  till  at  length  his  body  was  buried  at  Kilmun 

'5 


226  SCOTLAND. 

and  his  head  affixed  to  a  gable  of  the  Tolbooth,  an  old  building, 
once  the  Parliament  House,  but  then  a  prison. 

The  church  of  all  churches  in  Edinburgh  is  St.  Giles's.  Many 
repairs  and  restorations  have  been  made  upon  it,  so  that  only  a 
portion  of  the  tower  retains  its  original  design.  The  first  men- 
tion of  the  venerable  edifice  is  in  the  charter  of  David  II.,  in 
1359.  The  structure  was  large  and  cruciform,  and  after  the 
Reformation  the  four  parts  were  appropriated  to  various  uses. 
One  was  devoted  to  religious  services,  and  it  was  here  that  the 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant  of  the  Scotch  Covenanters  was 
sworn  to  and  subscribed  by  the  Parliament,  the  General  Assembly, 
and  the  Commissioners,  in  1643.  Another  part  was  used  as  a 
prison.  The  town  council  used  to  meet  in  it ;  the  town  clerk 
held  his  office  here,  and  a  transept  was  used  for  the  police.  A 
writer  says  of  it :  — 

The  city  corporation  treated  it  like  a  carpet-bag,  which  could 
never  be  crammed  so  full  but  that  room  might  be  made  for  some- 
thing more,  which  could  not  be  put  elsewhere. 

So  earnest  were  they  to  utilize  —  we  may  say  secularize  —  the 
old  structure,  that  even  the  spaces  on  the  outside,  between  the  but- 
resses,  were  from  a.  d.  1555  down  to  181 7,  a  period  of  262 
years,  filled  in  with  small  shops,  whose  chimneys  belched  smoke 
against  the  old  edifice. 

This  was  the  parish  church  of  Edinburgh  at  the  Reformation, 
and  is  celebrated  as  the  place  where  John  Knox  made  his 
appeals  to  the  piety  and  patriotism  of  the  metropolis, — 
appeals  which,  more  than  all  other  means,  established  the  Re- 
formation not  only  in  this  country,  but  the  civilized  world  over. 
An  exciting  scene  took  place  here  in  1637.  Archbishop  Laud 
had  arranged  for  the  introduction  of  the  liturgy,  to  establish  by 
authority  the  service  of  the  Church  of  England.  As  the  custom 
was,  Jenny  Geddes  brought  a  stool  with  her  to  church,  and 
when  the  obnoxious  prayers  were  begun,  and  the  Bishop  of 
Edinburgh  had  just  requested  the  Dean  to  read  the  Collect 
for  the  day,  Jenny  arose  and  exclaimed  :  "  Colic,  said  ye ;  the 
Devil  colic  the  wame  o'  ye  ;  wud  ye  say  Mass  at  my  lug?  "  and 
she  sent  her  stool  flying  at  the  Dean's  head.  The  famous  stool  is 
still  preserved  in  the  Antiquarian  Museum. 

The  ancient  cemetery  of  the  church  is  now  covered  by  the 
second  House  of  Parliament,  and  used  as  a  court-house.  John 
Knox  died  Nov.  24,  1572.  He  was  buried  in  the  burial- 
ground  not  far  from  the  church.     This  large  area  is  now  the 


EDINBURGH.  227 

approach  to  the  court-house,  and  is  paved  with  large  flagstones. 
As  nearly  as  can  be  ascertained,  this  burial-place  is  designated 
by  the  letters  J.  K.,  cut  in  one  of  these  stones  ;  and  this  is  the 
only  monument  that  Edinburgh  can  show  for  one  of  her  greatest 
citizens.  Over  the  grave  of  Knox  was  once  a  stone  with  that 
celebrated  epitaph  by  Regent  Morton  :  — 

Here  lies  he  who  never  feared  the  face  of  man. 

On  the  outer  walls  of  St.  Giles's  is  a  monument  to  John 
Napier,  who  died  here  April  4,  161 7,  and  was  celebrated  as  the 
inventor  of  logarithms. 

The  Tolbooth  was  originally  a  parliament  house,  and  at  last  a 
prison.  It  is  referred  to  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  "  Heart  of  Mid- 
lothian," and  is  marked  as  the  northwest  corner  of  St.  Giles's  by 
the  figure  of  a  heart  cut  in  the  pavement. 

The  house  in  which  Knox  resided  is  one  of  the  quaintest 
imaginable.  It  is  not  far  from  St.  Giles's,  and  is  very  irregular 
in  outline,  of  a  dark  brown  color,  three  and  a  half  projecting 
stories  in  height.  He  occupied  it  from  156010  1572,  when  he 
died  in  the  6  7th  year  of  his  age.  Over  the  door  is  the  inscrip- 
tion :  — 

Lufe  God  abuf  all,  and  ye  nychtbour  as  yiself. 

One  can  imagine  some  of  the  remarkable  questions  here  con- 
sidered, for  matters  pregnant  with  great  issues  were  held  in  this 
building.  At  one  time  the  care  of  all  the  Scotch  churches,  and 
even  of  the  nation  itself,  rested  heavily  on  the  spirit  of  John 
Knox ;  but  he  was  not  often  the  morose  fanatic  he  is  sometimes 
represented.  Few  men  enjoyed  social  intercourse  more  than 
he,  or  more  readily  availed  themselves  of  an  opportunity  for  its 
enjoyment.  A  few  days  before  his  death  he  desired  his  servant 
to  tap  a  cask  of  wine  that  had  been  presented  to  him,  that  he 
might  share  it  with  friends  who  were  paying  him  a  visit,  remark- 
ing that  he  was  "not  likely  to  tarry  till  it  be  finished."  We 
must  content  ourselves  with  an  extract  from  the  Diary  of  James 
Melville,  in  which  he  gives  a  graphic  description  of  his  preach- 
ing, and  more  especially  that  of  his  last  days  :  — 

In  the  opening  of  his  text  he  was  moderat  the  space  of  an  halff 
houre  :  but  when  he  enterit  to  application,  he  made  me  sa  to  grew 
and  tremble,  that  I  could  nocht  hald  a  pen  to  wryt.  Mr.  Knox 
waldsumtyme  come  in  and  repose  him  in  our  college-yard,  and  call 
us  scholars  to  him,  and  bless  us,  and  exort  us  to  know  God  and 
His  wark    in  our  country,  and  to  stand  by  the  guid  caus.     I  saw 


228  SCOTLAND. 

him  everv  d.iy  in  his  doctrine  [preaching]  go  hulie  and  fear  [cau- 
tiously] with  a  furring  of  martriks  about  his  neck,  a  staff  in  the 
ane  hand,  and  guid  godlie  Richart  Ballenden,  his  servand,  holdin 
up  the  other  oxtar,  from  the  abbey  to  the  paroche  kirk,  and  by  the 
said  Richart  and  another  servand,  lifted  up  to  the  pulpit,  where  he 
behovdit  to  lean  at  his  first  entrie,  but  or  he  had  done  with  his 
sermon,  he  was  sa  active  and  vigorous  that  he  was  like  to  ding  that 
pulpit  in  blads  and  flee  out  of  it. 

As  early  as  i 746  a  theatre  was  established  in  Edinburgh,  and 
the  church  of  those  days,  intensely  conservative  though  it  was, 
rather  encouraged  than  opposed  it,  for  Dr.  Carlyle  says  :  — 

When  Mrs.  Siddons  first  appeared  in  Edinburgh  during  the  sit- 
ting of  the  General  Assembly,  the  court  was  obliged  to  fix  all  its 
important  business  for  the  alternate  days  when  she  did  not  act,  as 
the  younger  members  of  the  clergy,  as  well  as  the  laity,  took  their 
stations  in  the  theatre  on  those  days  by  three  in  the  afternoon. 

On  St.  John  Street  near  by,  Smollett,  the  historian  and  novel- 
ist for  a  time  resided  with  his  sister,  Mrs.  Telfer.  The  next 
building  to  this  was  the  Canongate  Kilwinning  Lodge,  where 
Robert  Burns,  poet-laureate  to  the  lodge,  was  made  a  Royal 
Arch  Mason.  At  No.  13  lived  Lord  Monboddo  and  his  beau- 
tiful daughter,  Miss  Burnet,  whose  death  Burns  so  touchingly 
commemorated.  Lord  Monboddo  anticipated  Darwin,  for  he 
propounded  the  theory  that  the  human  family  had  ascended 
from  the  monkey.  His  contemporaries  were  not  disposed  to 
favor  his  opinions,  which  exposed  the  noble  lord  to  the  jocular 
request,  "  Show  us  your  tail,  Monboddo."  At  No.  10  was  the 
residence  of  James  Ballantine,  the  printer  of  the  first  editions 
of  the  Waverley  Novels,  whose  commercial  failure  involved  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  as  a  partner,  in  the  anxieties  which  beclouded  the 
best  years  of  his  life,  and  compelled  him  to  overtask  his  strength 
in  the  honorable  ambition  to  "  owe  no  man  anything."  Ballan- 
tine was  in  the  habit  of  giving  a  great  dinner  at  this  house  on  the 
occasion  of  every  new  publication  by  Sir  Walter,  and  therefore 
it  is  linked  with  the  memory  of  most  of  Scott's  literary  contem- 
poraries, who,  with  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch,  were  usually  invited 
to  the  feast.  At  Panmure  Close  the  celebrated  Adam  Smith 
lived  for  twelve  years,  and  died  July  8,  1 790. 

Before  closing  this  account  of  places  of  especial  interest  — 
and  we  have  spoken  of  but  one  of  a  thousand  —  we  must  name 
what  is  called  the  Abbey  Sanctuary,  the  only  one  remaining  in 
Scotland.  This  is  a  large  territory,  in  the  vicinity  of  Holyrood 
Palace,  and  includes  the  whole  range  of  Arthur's  Seat,  Salisbury 


EDINBURGH.  229 

Crags,  and  the  Queen's  Park.  It  was  set  apart  centuries  ago, 
as  a  district  into  which  poor  but  honest  debtors  might  flee  for 
safety  from  imprisonment.  So  long  as  they  could  prove  that 
they  were  not  fraudulent  bankrupts,  they  were  safe  in  this  land 
of  refuge,  and  on  the  Sabbath  they  could  go  over  the  city, 
wherever  they  pleased,  until  sunset.  This  freedom  naturally 
tempted  some  of  them  to  transgress  the  hour,  and  they  were 
then  in  peril  of  the  bumbailiffs ;  but  history  says  that  "  as  the 
bailiffs  would  no  more  dare  to  cross  the  sacred  strand  than  a 
witch  can  pursue  its  victim  over  a  running  stream,  there  were 
often  tremendous  treats  at  the  foot  of  Canongate."  On  one 
such  occasion  the  fugitive  fell  just  as  he  was  at  the  strand,  or 
boundary  line.  His  body  was  on  the  safe  side,  but  his  legs  were 
captured,  and  held  by  the  bailiffs  till  an  arrangement  was  made 
for  his  temporary  relief.  The  question  of  jurisdiction  came  up  in 
Parliament,  and  after  much  grave  discussion  it  was  decided  and 
resolved  that,  "  as  the  bailiff  could  do  nothing  with  a  man's  legs 
unless  he  had  the  body  they  belonged  to,  the  debtor  must  be 
allowed  to  take  his  legs  along  with  him." 

Sir  Walter  Scott's  residence  for  some  years  was  No.  39  Castle 
Street,  and  a  literary  Frenchman  has  remarked  that  "  it  was  a 
right  number  for  Sir  Walter,  as  it  was  fitting  that  the  Three  Graces 
and  Nine  Muses  should  take  their  station  there."  It  was  in  this 
house  that  occurred  the  ludicrous  incident  which  Sir  Walter 
utilizes  in  the  "  Bride  of  Lammermoor,"  when  he  represents  the 
faithful  Caleb  Balderstone  as  excusing  the  non-appearance  of 
dinner  by  the  fact  of  a  fall  of  soot  down  the  chimney.  Sir  Wal- 
ter had  invited  numerous  guests  to  dinner.  As  they  were  chat- 
ting together  the  butler  entered  with  a  face  like  that  of  him 
"  who  drew  Priam's  curtain  in  the  dead  of  night."  Beckoning 
to  his  master  he  informed  him  of  the  catastrophe  which  had 
taken  place.  Sir  Walter  carried  his  guests  to  Oman's  Hotel  in 
Charlotte  Square,  where  the  mishap  added  zest  to  the  banquet 
thus  speedily  prepared. 

The  castle  is  not  only  interesting  to  Scotland,  but  to  the  civ- 
ilized world.     Burns  says  of  it  :  — 

There,  watching  high  the  least  alarms, 
Thy  rough,  rude  fortress  gleams  afar; 

Like  some  rude  veteran,  grav  in  arms, 
And  marked  with  man)  a  &  -amy  scar; 

Tli'    ]"  md(  rOUi   wall  and  massy  bar, 

1 ,  'cr  1 1"  1  ugged  rock, 

I  lave  oft  will:  rig   '.\  11, 

And  oft  repelled  the  invader's  bhock." 


230  SCOTLAND. 

Castle  Rock,  on  which  it  is  built,  is  a  very  high  elevation  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  Old  City,  and  has  the  almost  undisputed  honor 
of  having  been  occupied  by  a  native  tribe  long  before  the  Roman 
Conquest.  St.  Margaret's  Chapel  is  older  than  1373,  in  whii  h 
year  Sir  William  Kirkcaldy,  who  held  the  fortress  for  Queen 
Mary,  was  compelled  by  his  garrison  to  surrender  to  the  com- 
bined forces  of  the  Scotch  and  English,  but  not  till  after  the 
fortress  was  laid  in  ruins.  The  barracks  adjoining  the  castle  — 
now  a  portion  of  the  structure,  an  ugly  pile,  half  house  and  half 
factory  in  appearance — was  erected  in  1796.  This  structure 
being  one  of  the  four  fortresses  of  Scotland  which,  by  the  Treaty 
of  Union,  were  to  be  kept  fortified,  is  always  occupied  by  a 
regiment  of  the  line.  There  is  but  one  approach  to  it,  and  that 
is  by  the  main  avenue  up  from  the  old  part  of  the  city,  which 
ends  in  a  square  called  the  Half  Moon  Battery.  This  is  a  level 
plain  of  the  form  indicated  by  its  name,  and  contains  an  acre 
graded  with  clean  gravel.  Salutes  are  fired  on  public  occasions, 
and  a  daily  gun,  at  1  p.  m.,  marks  the  Greenwich  time.  This  is 
fired  by  means  of  a  wire  stretching  over  the  city  from  the  Royal 
Observatory  at  Calton  Hill.  The  sound  can  be  so  distinctly 
heard  on  a  calm  day  that  it  is  the  regulator  of  time  for  a  circle 
of  forty  miles'  diameter.  Admittance  is  gained  by  passing  over 
a  drawbridge  across  the  moat,  once  filled  with  water,  but  now 
used  as  a  playground  by  the  soldiers.  The  castle  is  open  to  the 
public  on  payment  of  a  shilling.  The  old  dark  stone  walls  tower 
up,  castle-like,  before  us,  —  sombre,  massive,  aged,  and  varied  in 
outline.  The  structural  assemblage  is  what  we  had  imagined  a 
large  castellated  fortress  to  be.  We  walk  over  the  bridge,  and 
through  the  Portcullis  Arch,  above  which  is  the  old  State  Prison, 
where  the  Marquis  of  Argyle  and  other  illustrious  captives  were 
confined  previous  to  their  execution.  The  last  state  prisoners 
lodged  here  were  Watt  and  Downie,  accused  of  high  treason  in 
1794,  the  former  being  executed.  The  gate  passed,  we  are  met 
by  one  of  the  guides,  who  leads  us  through  the  contracted 
grounds  and  into  the  building.  First  comes  the  Crown  Room, 
where  the  regalia  are  kept.  These  consist  of  a  crown,  a  sceptre, 
a  sword  of  state,  and  a  silver  rod-of-office,  supposed  to  be  that 
of  the  Lord  Treasurer.  They  were  long  thought  to  be  lost ; 
but,  after  lying  in  an  oak  chest  from  the  date  of  the  union  with 
England  in  1707,  they  were  restored  to  the  light  in  1818,  chiefly 
through  the  instrumentality  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  the  Prince  Regent 
having  granted  a  commission  for  a  search  of  the  Crown  Room. 
The  Scotch  people  are  justly  proud  of  these  symbols  of  their 


EDINBURGH.  231 

independence,  these  relics  of  a  long  line  of  monarchs,  beginning 
with  the  hero  of  Bannockburn.  A  part  of  the  crown,  at  least, 
was  worn  by  Robert  Bruce  ;  and,  not  to  mention  other  sover- 
eigns, it  encircled  the  brows  of  Queen  Mary,  her  son  James  VI., 
and  her  grandson  Charles  I.  The  sword  was  a  gift  from  Pope 
Julius  II.  to  James  IV. 

In  Queen  Mary's  Room  that  lady  was  delivered,  June  19, 
1566,  of  her  son  James  VI.  of  Scotland,  afterward  James  I.  of 
England.  This  part  of  the  castle  was  built  by  the  Queen  the 
year  preceding,  for  her  palace,  and  so  is  317  years  old.  There 
is  a  vaulted  dungeon  below  this  room,  partly  excavated  in  the 
solid  rock ;  and  at  the  south  side  of  the  castle  there  are  other 
dungeons,  in  which  were  confined  prisoners  taken  in  the  wars  of 
the  First  Napoleon. 

The  miniature  chapel  of  Queen  Margaret  stands  on  the 
highest  part  of  the  castle  rock.  The  pious  queen  of  Malcolm 
Canmore  probably  erected  the  chapel,  and  she  certainly  wor- 
shipped there  till  her  death,  Nov.  17,  1093,  almost  eight  hun- 
dred years  ago.  It  is  a  complete  church,  but  measures  only 
16^  feet  long,  and  io£  feet  wide  within  the  nave.  It  looks 
inexpressibly  ancient,  but  is  in  excellent  preservation. 

The  old  cannon,  Mons  Meg,  stands  on  the  battery.  It  is 
large  and  peculiarly  formed,  with  a  heavy  wooden  carriage,  con- 
siderably decorated  with  carvings.  It  is  commonly  reported  to 
have  been  made  at  Mons,  France,  in  1476  ;  but  several  authori- 
ties in  archaeology,  including  Sir  Walter  Scott,  maintain  that 
there  is  good  evidence  of  its  having  been  made  in  Scotland,  and 
that  it  was  forged  at  Castle  Douglas  for  James  II.  by  McKim, 
a  local  blacksmith,  when  the  king  was  besieging  the  Castle  of 
Thrieve.  The  maker  called  the  cannon  Mollance  Meg,  the  first 
word  being  the  name  of  the  estate  given  him  by  the  grateful 
monarch  because  of  its  manufacture,  and  Meg  being  the  name 
of  his  wife.  It  was  injured  when  firing  a  salute  in  honor  of  the 
Duke  of  York's  visit  in  1682.  In  1684  it  was  removed  to  the 
Tower  of  London,  but  it  was  restored  to  the  castle  in  1829,  by 
order  of  George  IV. 

A  may  readily  be  imagined,  there  are  good  views  of  the  entire 
city  and  its  surroundings.  The  ( lastle  Ksplanade  was  for  cen- 
turies the  promenade  of  the  citizens  of  Old  Edinburgh  ;  and  as 
SU<  h  it  is  referred  to,  with  King's  Park  and  Leith  Pier,  in  various 
art-,  for  the  better  observance  of  the  Lord's  Day.  It  has  often 
been  the  scene  of  public  executions.  I'oret,  the  vicar  of  Dol 
lar,  and  others  of  the  early  Reformers  were  here  burnt  at  the 


232  SCOTLAND. 

stake  during  the  persecution  raised  by  Mary  of  Guise  and  the 
Romish  hierarchy.  Language  does  not  suffice  to  express  our 
regret  as  we  think  of  what  we  have  not  spoken  of,  as  the  sub- 
urbs also  are  full  of  charms ;  but  we  must  forego  all,  and  take 
the  train  for  Melrose,  where  we  arrived  at  1 2  o'clock  Thursday, 
June  6,  after  a  ride  of  an  hour  and  a  half.  We  are  now  on  our 
way  back  to  London  by  a  somewhat  circuitous  route,  and  mainly 
in  a  southerly  direction,  on  the  east  side  of  England. 


MELROSE.  233 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MELROSE  —  ABBOTSFORD. 

THE  ride  from  Edinburgh  is  through  a  farming  district, 
and  strongly  reminds  one  of  southern  New  England.  As 
the  reader  anticipates,  we  are  to  stop  at  Melrose  for  two 
purposes  ;  to  visit  the  ruins  of  its  abbey,  and  to  make  the  short 
tour  of  five  miles  to  Abbotsford.  The  town  of  Melrose  is  intensely 
rural  and  charming.  In  1851  it  had  a  population  of  7,487.  It 
has  a  number  of  small  and  comfortable  hotels,  and  carriages  are  on 
hire  at  reasonable  prices.  There  are  avenues  for  rambling  ;  and 
at  the  border-line  is  a  grand  hill,  which  stretches  along  the  entire 
length  of  the  village.  The  road  winds  along  the  hill  at  a  good  ele- 
vation, and  displays  to  advantage  the  valley  of  the  Tweed  and  the 
hills  on  the  opposite  side,  from  three  to  five  miles  away.  In  the 
level  parts  of  the  great  valley  the  land  is  under  excellent  cultiva- 
tion, though  largely  devoted  to  grazing.  The  groves,  the  heavy 
woodlands,  and  the  single  trees  which  remain  from  the  primeval 
forest  are  arranged  with  scrupulous  care  and  a  view  to  the  pic- 
turesque. It  would  seem  that  one  like  Scott  could  not  help  being 
inspired  by  scenes  like  these.  As  one  considers  beautiful  Edin- 
burgh, he  gets  the  impression  that  there  is  the  more  befitting 
residence  for  the  great  romancer;  but  once  in  Melrose,  and 
on  the  top  of  these  lovely  hills,  he  feels  that  here  Scott  was  in 
his  element. 

Our  first  step  was  to  go  to  a  hotel,  dine,  and  determine  the 
proper  course  for  sight-seeing.  Talking  the  matter  over  with 
our  hostess  we  were  advised  to  join  a  party  of  two  or  three 
others,  take  a  team,  and  go  first  to  Abbotsford,  and  stop  on 
our  way  back  at  the  abbey,  which  was  in  fact  but  a  few  minutes' 
walk  from  the  hotel.  The  advice  was  accepted,  and  we  were 
:  on  the  way  to  Abbotsford. 

We  passed  through  several  streets,  and  into  the  suburbs  ;  then, 
over  pleasant  roads,  by  beautiful  farms,  the  lovely  Tweed  more 

of  the  time  in  view  ;  and  oext,  through  narrow  lanes,  till 
we  came  in  sight  of  Abbotsford.     The  place  has  a  low  look,  for 


234  SCOTLAND. 

it  is  on  the  slightly  elevated  part  of  the  meadow,  in  a  northern 
parish  of  Melrose.  Sir  Walter  bought  the  estate  in  1811,  being 
then  at  the  age  of  forty.  He  soon  after  rebuilt  the  mansion, 
enlarging  it  as  his  fortunes  permitted.  He  named  it  from  an 
adjoining  ford,  called  the  Abbot's  Ford,  on  the  River  Tweed, 
which  here  is  a  small  stream  that  runs  through  the  estate.  It 
is  unite  sluggish  in  summer,  about  thirty  feet  wide,  but  greatly 
swollen  by  freshets.  The  house  is  large,  and  low  in  general 
appearance.  It  is  built  of  gray  limestone,  is  very  irregular  in 
castellated  outline,  with  numerous  small  towers  and  gables.  It 
is  so  low  that  we  can  look  down  upon  it  from  the  travelled  road. 
The  estate  is  approached  by  a  lane  from  the  main  road.  The 
garden  is  walled  in,  and  the  meadow-land  outside  reaches  to 
the  river.  The  external  walls  of  the  house  and  garden  have 
built  into  them  relics  of  ancient  abbeys  and  carvings  from  old 
castles.  At  the  decease  of  Sir  Walter,  Sept.  21,  1832,  the  build- 
ing was  occupied  by  James  Hope  Scott,  Esq. ;  and  his  wife,  the 
sole  surviving  daughter  of  Sir  Walter,  lived  there  until  her  death, 
Oct.  26,  1858.  It  then  went  by  inheritance  to  their  daughter, 
but  during  her  minority  it  was  let  for  the  use  of  a  Roman  Cath- 
olic seminary.  On  the  day  of  our  visit  we  found  her  in  posses- 
sion ;  but  during  the  larger  part  of  the  day  visitors  are  admitted 
to  the  principal  rooms  of  the  first  story. 

The  business  affairs  appear  to  be  managed  by  a  matron  who, 
after  taking  our  shillings,  explains,  systematically  and  hurriedly, 
the  various  objects  of  interest  for  about  half  an  hour,  —  all  the 
time  she  can  afford,  and  as  much  perhaps  as  we  should  give  if 
standing  in  her  place.  The  house  is  a  source  of  great  revenue, 
for  no  pleasant  day  passes  without  visitors.  In  the  reception- 
room  we  await  the  return  of  the  maiden,  who  is  just  then  guid- 
ing another  party.  They  come  into  the  room  wearing  an  ex- 
pression that  says  they  have  seen,  if  they  have  not  conquered. 
They  wend  their  way  slowly  out  of  the  grounds,  up  the  narrow 
lane,  to  their  carriages,  and  then,  though  breathing  freer,  they 
continue  so  absorbed  in  admiration  that  they  have  no  energy 
to  expend  in  regrets  over  the  shortness  of  their  stay.  The 
experience  of  one  party  is  that  of  all  who  have  brains  to  com- 
prehend the  facts.  A  visit  to  Abbotsford  is  like  a  flash  of  light- 
ning, which,  for  the  moment,  lights  up  miles  of  landscape,  and 
then  leaves  the  beholder  to  mentally  repicture  what  is  still 
there,  but  veiled  from  his  view.  An  experience  like  this  was 
ours  at  Strasburg,  where  a  momentary  light  from  our  high  hotel 
window  exhibited  the  cathedral,  the  lofty  roofs  of  the  houses, 


ABBOTSFORD.  235 

and  the  storks  standing  on  one  leg  on  the  chimney-tops.  Brief 
was  our  half-hour  at  Abbotsford,  but  it  was  enough  to  write  the 
spot  indelibly  upon  memory's  tablets. 

But  we  now  follow  our  guide,  and  are  ushered  first  into  the 
study.  This  is  a  room  not  far  from  twenty  feet  square  and  fif- 
teen feet  high.  It  is  finished  in  oak,  and  has  a  heavy  wrought 
ceiling  of  the  same  material.  On  one  side  is  a  coal  grate,  sur- 
rounded by  a  red  marble  mantel,  with  a  lamp  upon  it,  and  a 
small  marble  obelisk  monument.  The  grate,  fire-screen,  and 
poker  remain  as  they  were  fifty-one  years  ago.  At  the  centre  of 
the  room  is  the  mohagany  desk  at  which  he  sat,  —  plain  and  flat- 
topped.  It  has  five  drawers  on  each  side,  with  an  opening  for 
the  sitter's  feet  between  the  rows.  The  armchair  is  near  it,  —  a 
good-sized  comfortable  chair,  and  covered  with  light-brown 
leather.  The  wall-spaces  are  filled  with  books,  and  a  light  cast- 
iron  gallery  extends  partly  around  the  room.  Above  this  gallery 
are  other  reference  books.  On  the  side  opposite  the  chimney, 
in  front  of  a  window,  is  a  sort  of  casket,  having  a  plate-glass 
top.  It  needs  not  that  the  maid  should  tell  us  that  here  are  the 
last  clothes  worn  by  the  poet.  A  well  written  paper  so  states, 
but  the  pictures  of  him  have  long  before  given  the  information. 
For  their  description  we  appeal  to  our  note-books.  At  the  left 
are  the  shoes,  —  large,  thick,  and  made  of  coarse  leather.  They 
are  moderately  low-cut,  much  strained  by  his  high  instep,  well 
blacked,  and  considerably  worn.  They  have  no  binding  or 
lining,  and  are  tied  with  leather  strings  laced  through  four  or  five 
holes.  In  the  centre  is  a  well  ironed  and  carefully  folded  pair 
of  pants,  once  black  and  white,  but  now  yellowish  plaid,  —  the 
plaids  a  scant  quarter-inch  square  ;  and  there  is  the  large  waist- 
coat with  alternating  brown  and  white  stripes,  perhaps  a  sixteenth 
of  an  inch  wide,  and  running  lengthwise.  Next  there  is  a  large 
white  and  wide-brimmed  stove-pipe  fur  hat,  with  rather  a  short 
nap.  It  shows  hard  usage,  for  there  are  a  number  of  dents  in  it. 
Finally,  there  is  a  dark-blue  frock-coat,  —  said  to  have  gilt  but- 
ton-, but  they  are  folded  out  of  sight. 

How  pleasing  it  would  be  to  pass  into  a  reverie  in  this  great 
presence  !  We  pass  into  the  splendid  and  unusual  library.  The 
ceiling  has  oak  mouldings  and  deep  panels,  said  to  be  copies 
from  an  ancient  castle.  The  sides  are  covered  with  books  from 
floor  nearly  to  ceiling.  The  furniture  is  rich  and  various,  mu<  h 
of  it  presented  by  distinguished  men.  In  a  square  showcase  on 
a  table  are  expo  ed  for  exhibition  small  articles  that  wrere  given 
Walter  by  kings,  queens,  and  other  persons  of  noble  blood. 


23C  SCOTLAND. 

Among  them  are  snuff-boxes, — gold,  silver,  ivory,  pearl,  shell, 
and  papier-mache.  The  floor  is  of  polished  oak,  and  without 
carpets.  The  library  is  not  far  from  twenty-five  feet  wide,  forty- 
five  long,  and  fifteen  feet  high. 

We  next  pass  into  the  dining-room,  which  is  about  twenty 
feet  wide  and  thirty  feet  long,  and  is  the  one  in  which  the  great 
owner  breathed  his  last.  It  also  has  an  oak  floor,  and  is  with- 
out furniture,  save  a  few  chairs  for  the  use  of  visitors.  At  one 
end  is  a  large  bay-window,  looking  out  on  the  great  lawn, 
extending  from  the  house  to  the  Tweed.  It  adds  a  peculiar 
interest  to  know  that  Sir  Walter  so  loved  nature  that,  when  he 
saw  the  great  consummation  approaching,  he  desired  to  be  re- 
moved from  his  chamber  to  this  room,  where  he  might  once 
more  gaze  upon  this  scene  and  his  favorite  river,  which  was 
flowing  away  like  his  own  life.  A  couch  was  brought,  and  placed 
against  the  side  wall,  with  its  foot  towards  the  window,  and  there 
the  silver  cord  was  loosed,  the  golden  bowl  broken,  the  pitcher 
shattered  at  the  fountain,  the  wheel  broken  at  the  cistern,  and 
the  poet  was  no  more  a  mortal. 

The  temptation  is  resistless  to  say  a  few  words  about  Scott's 
previous  life.  He  had  become  worn  down  with  his  attempts 
to  earn  enough  to  meet  the  claims  made  against  him,  $400,000, 
in  consequence  of  the  failure  of  his  publisher,  Ballantine.  At 
first  he  left  Abbotsford  and  went  to  London  to  do  this  work. 
Becoming  a  mere  wreck  of  his  former  self,  he  went  to  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean  ;  but  at  last,  when  hope  deferred 
had  made  the  heart  sick,  he  returned  to  London,  went  to  a  small 
hotel,  the  St.  James,  at  76  Jermyn  Street,  and  there  passed  three 
melancholy  weeks  before  going  to  his  home  on  the  Tweed. 
Mr.  Lockhart,  who  was  with  him,  gives  the  following  graphic 
account : 

When  we  reached  the  hotel,  he  recognized  us  with  many  marks 
of  tenderness,  but  signified  that  he  was  totally  exhausted ;  so  no 
attempt  was  made  to  remove  him  farther,  and  he  was  put  to  bed 
immediately.  To  his  children,  all  assembled  once  more  about  him, 
he  repeatedly  gave  his  blessing  in  a  very  solemn  manner,  as  if 
expecting  immediate  death;  but  he  was  never  in  a  condition  for 
conversation,  and  sank  either  into  sleep  or  delirious  stupor  upon 
the  slightest  effort. 

Mr.  Ferguson,  who  was  seldom  absent  from  his  pillow,  says  :  — 

When  I  first  saw  Sir  Walter,  he  was  lying  on  the  second-floor- 
back  room  of  the  St.  James  Hotel  in  Jermyn  Street,  in  a  state  of 
stupor,  from  which,  however,  he  would  be  roused  for  a  moment 


ABBOTSFORD.  237 

by  being  addressed  ;  and  then  he  recognized  those  about  him,  but 
immediately  relapsed.  I  think  I  never  saw  anything  more  magni- 
ficent than  the  symmetry  of  his  colossal  bust,  as  he  lay  on  the 
pillow  with  his  chest  and  neck  exposed.  During  the  time  he  was 
in  Jermyn  Street  he  was  calm  but  never  collected,  and  in  general 
was  either  in  absolute  stupor  or  in  a  waking  dream.  He  never 
seemed  to  know  where  he  was,  but  imagined  himself  to  be  still  in 
the  steamboat.  The  rattling  of  carriages  and  the  noises  of  the 
street  sometimes  disturbed  this  illusion,  and  then  he  fancied  him- 
self at  the  polling  of  Jedburgh,  where  he  had  been  insulted  and 
stoned.  ...  At  length  his  constant  yearnings  to  return  to  Abbots- 
ford  induced  his  physicians  to  consent  to  his  removal,  —  a  consent 
which,  the  moment  it  was  notified  to  him,  seemed  to  infuse  new 
vigor  into  his  frame.  It  was  on  a  calm,  clear  afternoon  of  the  7th 
of  July  [1832]  that  every  preparation  was  made  for  his  embarkation 
on  board  the  steamboat.  He  was  placed  on  a  chair  by  his  faithful 
servant,  Nicholson,  half-dressed,  and  loosely  wrapped  in  a  quilted 
dressing-gown.  He  requested  Lockhart  and  myself  to  wheel  him 
towards  the  light  of  the  open  window,  and  we  both  remarked  the 
vigorous  lustre  of  his  eye.  He  sat  there  silently  gazing  on  space 
for  more  than  half  an  hour,  apparently  wholly  occupied  with  his 
own  thoughts,  and  having  no  distinct  perception  of  where  he  was, 
or  how  he  came  there.  He  suffered  himself  to  be  lifted  into  his 
carriage,  which  was  surrounded  by  a  crowd,  among  whom  were 
many  gentlemen  on  horseback,  who  loitered  about  to  gaze  on  the 
scene.  His  children  were  deeply  affected,  and  Mrs.  Lockhart 
trembled  from  head  to  foot  and  wept  bitterly.  Thus  surrounded  by 
those  nearest  to  him,  he  alone  was  unconscious  of  the  cause  or  the 
depth  of  their  grief,  and  while  yet  alive  seemed  to  be  carried  to  his 
grave. 

He  embarked  on  the  steamer,  and  after  a  four  days'  sail,  on 
the  nth  of  July  his  eye  once  more  brightened  as  he  caught 
sight  of  the  familiar  waters  of  the  Tweed,  and  when  at  length  he 
recognized  the  towers  of  his  own  Abbotsford,  he  sprang  up  in 
the  carriage  with  delight.  He  was  carried  to  his  chamber,  where 
he  remained  till  his  death  on  the  21st  of  September, 

We  have  no  apology  to  make  for  this  digression,  for  Scott 
has  given  to  Scotland  and  English  literature  a  new  glory. 

We  now  resume  our  walk  over  the  house,  and  pass  through 
the  museum,  which  is  some  twelve  feet  wide  and  forty  feet  long. 
Various  kinds  of  armor  prevail,  and  many  interesting  things  that 
were  presented  to  the  "  Lord  of  the  domain."  Fifty  one  years 
are  gone  since  the  great  poet  was  here,  but  all  else  rem  tins  as  it 
was.  We  sit  down  111  hi-,  study,  as  if  waiting  for  him  to  come  ; 
and  so  real  is  .everything  that,  should  the  sound  of  his  heavy 
feet  be   heard  in  the   hull,  should  he  enter  in  person,  the  gulf 


238  SCOTLAND. 

of  years  would  as  by  magic  be  bridged  over  and  forgotten.  He 
arranged  this  house  only  for  his  home  ;  but  he  unwittingly  made 
it  a  Jerusalem  for  countless  pilgrims. 

We  i Kissed  meditatingly  up  the  lane,  mounted  the  team, 
and  in  spite  of  the  clack  of  the  driver,  of  hills  and  dales,  —  in 
spite  of  anything  material,  —  those  unmaterial  memories  held 
sway.  We  had  been  to  Abbotsford,  and  its  inspiration  would 
evermore  be  ours. 

An  odor  or  a  sunset  was  never  fully  described,  though  some 
can  tell  the  story  better  than  others.  A  lamp  lighted  from  an- 
other does  not  reduce  the  original  flame,  and  so  it  is  with  visits 
to  any  shrine.  A  million  may  go  to  Abbotsford,  but  it  loses 
nothing  by  these  draughts  of  pleasure. 

Our  carriage  ride  ended,  we  are  at  Melrose  Abbey.  How 
many  times  Sir  Walter  stood  on  this  spot.     His  advice  was :  — 

If  thou  would'st  view  fair  Melrose  aright, 
Go  visit  it  by  the  pale  moonlight, 
For  the  gay  beams  of  lightsome  day 
Gild  but  to  flout  the  ruins  gray. 

This  we  could  not  do,  but  we  saw  the  abbey  at  the  close  of  a 
fine  day,  as  the  sun  threw  its  rays  aslant  in  long  lines  across  the 
grand  ruins.  We  are  met  by  a  young  maiden  whose  father  has 
charge  of  the  premises.  We  pay  our  shilling  to  enter,  and  first 
of  all  are  impressed  with  the  great  beauty  of  the  place.  It  is  a 
large  church,  once  belonging  to  the  abbey,  the  latter  having  long 
since  been  destroyed.  The  nave,  aisles,  and  transepts  are  roof- 
less. Here  and  there,  neatly  piled  against  the  walls,  are  fallen 
stones  that  once  were  part  of  the  edifice.  The  floor  is  covered 
with  that  velvety  grass  which  delights  to  take  possession  of 
places  like  this ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  blamed,  for  the  grass  is 
emblematic  of  mortals  who  would  do  the  same  if  they  could. 
The  walls  are  solid  and  lofty,  and  a  part  of  the  groined  ceiling 
of  the  choir  remains.  The  windows  are  perfect  in  their  stone 
tracery  of  mullions  and  transoms.  Instinctively  we  look  for  the 
great  chancel  with  its  east  window,  —  and  adore,  and  see  the 
force  of  Scott's  description  :  — 

The  moon  on  the  east  oriel  shone 
Through  slender  shafts  of  shapely  stone, 
By  foliaged  tracery  combined. 
Thou  wouldst  have  thought  some  fairy  hand 
'Twixt  poplars  straight  the  osier  wand, 
In  many  a  freakish  knot  had  twined ; 
Then  framed  a  spell  when  work  was  done 
And  changed  the  willow  wreaths  to  stone. 


MELROSE.  239 

In  this  wall,  under  this  window,  was  buried  die  heart  of  Robert 
Bruce. 

Here  are  tombs  of  men  too  great  to  have  their  dust  mingle 
with  common  soil.  We  are  delighted  with  the  ivy,  climbing 
at  random,  —  sometimes  very  thick  and  grand  in  its  mantling 
power.  We  pass  out  of  the  side  door,  and  are  in  the  burial- 
ground  of  two  or  three  acres.  Not  cared  for  by  mortals,  Nature 
—  in  great  unison  with  her  possessions  and  conscious  of  her 
sacred  trust  —  prohibits  the  intrusion  of  rambling  vine  or  un- 
sightly weed.  How  varied  are  the  views  of  tower  and  gable,  of 
buttress  unbroken  or  in  partial  ruin  !  Remove  a  stone,  or  repair 
one,  and  you  do  injury.  Here  repose  the  ashes  of  monk  and 
nun,  who  centuries  ago  entered  their  free  immortality. 

The  abbey  was  founded  by  David  I.  in  1136,  and  dedicated 
to  the  Virgin  Mary  ten  years  after.  It  was  occupied  first*  by 
monks  of  the  Cistercian  order,  who  had  come  from  Yorkshire. 
In  1322,  after  a  peaceable  occupancy  of  176  years,  its  quiet  was 
disturbed  by  the  invasion  of  an  army  under  the  authority  of 
Edward  II.,  and  the  building  was  greatly  injured.  Robert 
Bruce  soon  after  commenced  its  rebuilding,  after  the  present 
design.  It  was  not  favored,  however,  with  long  repose,  for  in 
1385  it  suffered  again;  but  it  was  again  repaired,  and  then 
enjoyed  a  rest  of  160  years.  In  1545  it  once  more  suffered 
severely  from  English  invaders.  Again  repaired,  it  remained 
quiet  for  a  time,  but  during  the  Reformation,  under  Cromwell, 
its  choicest  sculptures  were  mutilated.  To  the  shame  of  human 
nature  be  it  said,  in  later  times  many  of  its  stones  have  been 
carried  away  for  the  erection  of  other  buildings ;  but  yet,  after 
full  five  centuries  have  flown,  it  remains  one  of  the  few  grand  and 
satisfying  examples  of  Gothic  architecture  in  the  world. 

We  leave  the  ruins  for  a  ramble  over  the  town.  In  the  busi- 
ness parts  there  is  neatness  and  a  limited  commercial  life.  Then 
we  go  to  the  rear,  through  one  of  the  most  romantic  roads  imag- 
inable, and  up  the  hillside  for  the  views  already  described.  We 
had  arranged  to  leave  town  that  night,  but  the  entire  hill  seemed 
to  beseech  us  to  "Come  up  hither."  We  halted  "between  two 
opinions."  One  of  the  hard  questions  was  to  decide  whether  to 
go  or  to  stay.  Body  and  spirit  were  in  antagonism  ;  but  remem- 
bering a  long  line  of  good  places  ahead,  we  urged  our  unwilling 
feet  to  descend  this  hill  of  Zion,  which  yielded  "a  thousand 
sacred  sweets."  If  anything  makes  travelling  companions  mute, 
it  is  such  a  condition.  No  jokes,  no  attempts  to  say  smart 
things,  no  more  eulogistic  talk  about  fine  scenery  are  in  order; 


240  SCOTLAND. 

the  effort  is  to  try  and  forget  we  are  losing  it.  The  walk  to  a 
station  is  not  a  Galop,  but  is  rather  a  Dead  March  in  such 
a  mood. 

At  5  p.  m.  we  take  cars  for  Newcastle-on-Tyne,  and  so  in  a 
few  hours  shall  be  out  of  Scotland,  for  we  are  on  the  border. 
Dundee,  Dunfermline,  Aberdeen,  are  unvisited, — and  Dry- 
burgh  Abbey,  where  Scott's  ashes  repose,  though  it  is  but  five 
miles  away.  Jedburgh  Abbey  also  is  unseen ;  but  we  trust 
the  reader  will  some  day  go  over  this  ground,  and  then  he  can 
really  sympathize  with  our  loss. 


ENGLAND. 


16 


CHAPTER  XV. 

NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE  —  DURHAM. 

WE  arrived  in  Newcastle  at  10  p.m.,  after  a  five  hours' 
ride  from  Melrose.  The  city  has  quite  a  history,  and 
as  we  desired  to  break  the  long  ride  to  Durham,  we 
were  ready  to  stop  here  over  night,  for  we  made  it  a  rule  to  re- 
frain from  night  travel. 

This  is  the  chief  town  of  old  Northumberland,  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  River  Tyne,  eight  miles  from  its  mouth,  and  has  a 
population  of  128,443.  ^  1S  built  on  three  steep  hills,  although 
between  them  are  the  business  portions  on  level  ground.  It 
extends  two  miles  along  the  river,  and  is  connected  with  Gates- 
head, on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  by  a  handsome  stone 
bridge.  There  are  remains  of  ancient  fortifications.  The 
streets  are  spacious,  and  there  are  many  elegant  buildings,  but 
there  is  that  smoky  condition  characteristic  of  large  manufac- 
turing places.  There  are  here  fine  buildings  for  public  baths 
and  wash-houses,  built  in  1859.  The  High  Level  Bridge  across 
the  Tyne  was  built  by  Robert  Stevenson.  It  is  supported  by 
six  massive  piers  124  feet  apart,  and  has  a  carriage-way  90  feet 
above  the  river;  and  28  feet  over  that  is  the  viaduct,  118  feet 
above  the  water.  The  cost  was  $1,172,250.  There  is  an  anti- 
quarian museum  in  the  old  castle  tower,  containing  the  largest 
collection  of  lapidary  inscriptions  and  sculptures  in  England. 
The  castle  was  built  in  1080,  by  Robert,  eldest  son  of  William 
the  Conqueror.  It  has  been  restored  in  many  parts.  Though 
very  small,  being  scarcely  more  than  a  low  tower  some  75  feet 
in  diameter,  it  is  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  Norman  ar<  hi- 
tecture  in  the  kingdom.  Situated  at  the  junction  of  the  principal 
streets,  and  being  readily  seen  from  the  station,  the  contrast 
between  the  am  icnt  anil  modern  is  impressive. 

The  harbor,  now  greatly  improved,  has  a  quay  1550  feet  long. 
The  traffic  is  principally  in  bituminous  coal,  for  which  the  city  is 
the  greatest  mart  in  the  world  ;  heme  the  adage  about  the  impro- 


244  ENGLAND. 

priety  of  carrying  coals  to  Newcastle.  This  trade  has  been  import- 
ant from  ancient  time,  for  the  burgesses  obtained  from  Henry  III. 
in  1239  —  more  than  644  years  ago  —  "a  license  to  dig  coal," 
and  by  the  time  of  Edward  I.  the  business  had  so  increased 
that  Newcastle  paid  a  tax  of  ^200.  In  16 15  the  trade  had  so 
advanced  as  to  employ  400  ships,  and  the  traffic  extended  into 
France  and  the  Netherlands.  200,000  tons  of  coke  are  sent  out 
annually.  Lead  is  also  shipped  in  large  quantities.  The  ore  js 
brought  from  Cumberland,  and  the  northwestern  Northumber- 
land Hills,  and  also  from  Durham,  and  is  here  worked  into  pig- 
lead,  and  manufactured  into  sheets  and  pipes.  This  trade  is 
even  more  ancient  than  the  coal  traffic. 

About  a  mile  from  the  place  is  the  holy  well  of  Jesus  Mound, 
now  called  Jesmond,  which  was  formerly  a  favorite  pilgrim  resort. 
During  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  the  city  was  taken  by  the  Scottish 
army  in  1640,  and  again  in  1644.  The  Church  of  St.  Nicholas 
is  an  ancient  but  spacious  structure  of  decorated  English  style, 
having  a  tower  and  spire  193  feet  high,  of  elegant  and  graceful 
proportions.  St.  Andrew's  Church  is  an  ancient  Norman  edifice 
with  a  large,  low,  embattled  tower.  There  are  other  churches  of 
considerable  renown,  —  such  as  All  Saints,  with  a  circular  interior, 
and  Grecian  steeple  202  feet  high  ;  and  last  but  by  no  means 
least,  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  of  St.  Mary,  of  magnificent 
early  English  architecture. 

At  9.30  a.  m.  of  the  next  day,  Friday,  we  left  for 

DURHAM, 

where  we  arrived  in  an  hour.  In  all  England  no  more  pictur- 
esquely situated  place  exists,  for  it  is  embowered  in  trees,  and 
stands  on  a  rocky  hill,  rising  from  the  River  Wear.  On  the 
summit  is  the  cathedral  built  of  yellow  stone.  It  has  three  towers 
without  spires,  which,  together  with  the  roof  and  a  part  of  the 
church  walls,  rise  imposingly  out  of  the  surrounding  foliage.  The 
place  has  a  population  of  14,406.  The  river  banks  are  skirted 
by  overhanging  gardens  with  fine  walks,  beyond  which  the 
houses  rise  above  each  other,  till  all  are  crowned  by  the  cathe- 
dral itself.  To  add  an  intensity  of  beauty,  on  the  summit  of  a 
rocky  eminence  near  by  are  the  remains  of  a  Norman  castle. 
The  division  north  of  the  castle  contains  most  of  the  stores,  and 
has  one  of  those  English  commercial  conveniences,  a  market- 
place. 

Among  the  public  buildings  are  a  town-hall  in  the  Tudor 


DURHAM.  245 

baronial  style,  a  theatre,  seven  parish  churches,  a  school  of 
art,  and  a  university.  The  old  Church  of  St.  Nicholas,  now  in 
thorough  repair,  is  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  church  archi- 
tecture in  the  North  of  England.  The  old  castle  is  opposite 
the  cathedral.  It  was  founded  by  William  the  Conqueror,  who 
died  Sept.  9,  1087,  so  that  the  structure  is  eight  hundred  years 
old  ;  and  was  built  for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  the  royal 
authority  in  the  adjacent  district,  especially  by  resisting  the 
inroads  of  the  Scots.  Many  additions  have  been  made  to  it,  so 
that  it  is  now  difficult  to  say  which  parts  are  old  and  which  new  ; 
but  no  question  exists  in  relation  to  the  great  antiquity  of  the 
foundations  and  lower  portions,  and  of  the  very  ancient  date  of 
some  of  the  higher  parts  of  much  above  them.  For  many  years 
it  was  the  residence  of  the  bishops  of  Durham,  but  of  late  has 
been  given  up  to  the  use  of  the  university. 

The  See  of  Durham  is  the  richest  in  England.  The  revenues 
are  very  great,  and  one  bishop  left  $1,000,000  at  his  decease  a 
few  years  ago.  Collieries  and  railroads  have  given  a  powerful 
impetus  to  this  aristocratic  place,  which  has  now  considerable 
trade  and  large  carpet  manufactures.  It  has  long  been  noted 
for  Durham  Mustard,  a  commodity  to  be  found  in  the  best 
groceries  of  America. 

In  the  vicinity  of  Durham  is  Neville's  Cross,  erected  by  Lord 
Neville,  in  commemoration  of  the  defeat  of  David  II.  of  Scot- 
land, in  1346.  There  is  also  a  Roman  fortress,  called  the 
Maiden  Castle. 

Durham  is  permeated  and  enveloped  not  only  with  a  pleasure- 
inspiring  element,  but  with  those  aesthetic  conditions  which, 
although  obscured,  here  and  there  crop  out  in  cathedral  towns. 
These  latter  words  contain  the  secret  of  all  this  interest  — 
cathedral  towns.  Once  England  was  absolutely  controlled  by 
the  Church. 

There  is  a  vast  deal  more  in  the  expression  Church  and  State, 
than  is  generally  understood  by  a  young  American.  The  Church, 
both  temporally  and  spiritually,  was  above  king,  prince,  potentate, 
or  judge.  This  was  distinctly  claimed  by  a  bull  of  Pope  Urban, 
and  was  acknowledged  till  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  who  struck 
it  a  death-blow  by  proclaiming  himself  Head  of  the  Church. 
How  far  this  was  in  advance  of  the  act  of  Richard  Coeui  de 
Lion.  —  "the  lion-hearted,"  who  died  April  6,  1 199,  — who,  when 
he  left  for  the  I  loly  Land,  placed  his  realm  definitely  in  the  hands 
of  the  Bishop  of  Durham,  where  it  had  practically  been  for  a  Ion- 
time  before. 


246  ENGLAND. 

Of  course  the  all-absorbing  object  of  interest  is  the  cathedral 
itself.  As  much  soil  is  not  covered  by  any  other  building  in  all 
England  of  more  historic  renown.  It  is  indeed  a  feast  of 
intellectual  "  wine  on  the  lees,  and  well  refined."  It  was  founded 
in  1093,  and  so  was  four  hundred  years  old  when  the  realm  was 
being  disturbed  by  reports  that  Columbus  was  seeking  aid  for 
the  exploration  of  a  new  continent  of  doubtful  existence.  It  is 
507  feet  long,  and  200  feet  wide  at  the  transepts.  It  has  a  cen- 
tral tower  214  feet  high,  and  two  others  that  are  alike,  at  the 
west  end,  facing  down  to  the  river,  almost  on  the  verge  of  the 
cliff-like  embankments.  On  account  of  its  great  height  it  is 
commanding  in  appearance.  These  west  towers  are  143  feet 
high,  with  a  lofty  gable  between  them.  The  whole  west  front  is 
elaborately  finished,  though  not  bold  in  detail.  There  is 
great  boldness  of  outline,  though  no  deep  and  very  distinct 
ornamentation.  The  material  is  yellowish  sandstone,  somewhat 
dingy,  but  plainly  betraying  its  original  tint.  The  edifice  is 
mainly  of  Norman  architecture,  but  repairs  and  restorations  have 
been  made  ;  and,  according  to  usage,  each  new  part  was  in  the 
style  of  architecture  presented  at  the  period  of  restoration, 
—  which  was  not  restoration  but  alteration  ;  for  there  was  really 
no  restoration  of  design,  and  sometimes  not  even  a  reproduction 
oiform.  All  styles  of  ecclesiastical  architecture  are  to  be  found 
in  one  building,  —  from  the  Norman,  down  through  the  Early 
English,  to  the  latest  or  Perpendicular  Gothic.  This  is  illustra- 
ted in  Durham  Cathedral,  for  here  are  examples  of  each  style, 
though  the  Norman  prevails ;  especially  in  the  never  over- 
praised interior,  where  the  ponderous  round  columns,  with  their 
diagonal  and  lozenge  decorations,  and  the  huge  round  arches, 
with  splendid  chevron  mouldings,  intersecting  arches,  — and 
every  contour  and  combination  peculiar  to  the  best  of  the  old 
Norman  works,  —  exist  in  their  perfection. 

While  the  beautiful  work  at  Winchester  and  York  Minster,  and 
at  Salisbury  and  Lincoln  —  in  their  soaring  columns  and  lofty 
arches,  their  rich  traceries  and  decorations,  their  long  lines  of 
groined  ceilings,  and  (as  at  Salisbury  and  Lichfield)  their  grand 
heavenward-pointing  spires  —  suggest  the  Resurrection,  and 
the  aspiration  of  humanity,  and  so  do  honor  to  Christianity  as 
distinguished  from  the  low  and  grovelling  tendency  of  Egyptian 
or  Grecian  temple,  or  even  Roman, —  while  Gothic  architecture  is 
suggestive  of  these  higher  qualities,  the  solid  columns  and  arches 
of  Norman  Durham  speak  of  eternity,  and  suggest  that  nothing 
good  dies.      These  two  were  the  great  steps  taken  by  humanity 


DURHAM.  247 

as  it  became  Christianized.  First  came  a  consciousness  of 
existing  good,  and  an  accompanying  desire  to  perpetuate  it. 
Next  came  aspiration,  —  a  reaching  out  and  up,  after  still 
better  life. 

The  Egyptian  or  Grecian  mind  was  satisfied  with  things  as 
they  were,  and  found  consequent  satisfaction  in  the  low  temple 
of  Edfu  or  the  unpinnacled  Parthenon.  It  was  for  the  Chris- 
tian aspiration  to  demand  and  only  be  partially  satisfied  with  — 
tall  columns  and  lofty  arches,  high  towers  and  spires,  reaching 
sometimes,  like  that  at  Salisbury,  more  than  four  hundred  feet 
toward 

"The  third  heaven  where  God  resides, 
That  holy  happy  place." 

The  ponderous  pyramids  of  Egypt,  the  fantastic  temples  of 
India,  had  height  and  breadth,  but  not  a  suggestion  of  anything 
above  and  beyond  themselves.  They  were,  after  all,  only  heaps 
of  material,  plain  like  the  pyramids,  —  or  gorgeous  and  uncouth 
Indian  piles,  having  in  view  the  honor  of  some  earthly  king  or 
some  imaginary  god,  one  among  many.  There  was  no  attempt 
to  do  honor  to  the  "  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords." 
Nowhere  were  the  contributions  of  the  people  concentrated  for 
their  own  good,  and  for  the  blessing  of  generations  to  come. 
A  cathedral  embodies  this  idea.  It  is  a  connecting  link  be- 
tween the  old  dispensation  and  the  new ;  and,  unlike  our  Bible, 
it  has  no  blank  leaves  between  the  Old  and  New  Testaments. 

Two  things  in  Durham  Cathedral  demand  our  particular 
attention.  One  is  the  Sanctuary  Ground,  and  the  other  is 
Galilee  Chapel  at  the  west  end. 

Outside  the  cathedral,  at  the  great  northern  side  door,  there 
is  a  large  and  grotesque  brass  knocker, —  a  head  with  staring, 
hollow  eyes,  and  a  ring  in  its  mouth.  In  olden  time  a  criminal, 
fleeing  from  justice,  who  was  able  to  reach  and  lift  this  knocker, 
was  safe  from  arrest.  A  monk  was  all  the  time  stationed  in- 
side to  open  the  door  to  every  applicant.  The  ground-floor 
of  the  northwestern  tower  was  the  sanctuary  ground.  A 
work  on  the  "Antiquities  of  Durham  Cathedral"  gives  the 
folli  iwing  statement :  — 

The  culprit  upon  knocking  at  the  ring  affixed  to  the  north  door 

was  admitted  without  delay,  and  after  confessing  his  crime,  with 

every  minute  circumstance  connected  with  it,  the  whole  <>t  which 

ommitted  to  writing  in  the  presence  of  witnesses,  a  hell  in  the 

■  er  ringing  all  the  while,  to  give  notice  to  the  town  that 
some  one  had  taken  relume   in    the  <  lunch,  there  wab  put  upon  him 


248  ENGLAND. 

a  black  gown  with  a  yellow  cross  upon  its  left  shoulder,  as  a  badge 
of  Cuthbert,  whose  girth,  or  peace,  he  had  claimed.  When  thirty- 
seven  days  had  elapsed,  if  no  pardon  could  be  obtained,  the  male- 
factor, after  certain  ceremonies  before  the  shrine,  solemnly  abjured 
his  native  land  forever,  and  was  straightway,  by  the  agency  of  the 
intervening  parish  constables,  conveyed  to  the  coast,  bearing  in 
his  hand  a  white  wooden  cross,  and  was  sent  out  of  the  kingdom  by 
the  first  ship  which  sailed  after  his  arrival. 

The  old  knocker  remains  at  its  post,  though  centuries  have 
passed  since  it  last  rendered  its  sacred  service,  and  was  trem- 
blingly grasped  by  a  panting  fugitive.  We  assumed  this  role, 
but,  fortunately  or  unfortunately,  could  not  knock  as  a  genuine 
culprit  could. 

The  Old  Galilee  is  a  room  perhaps  55  feet  by  75,  divided  by 
columns  and  arches  into  five  sections.  The  architecture  is 
decorated  Norman,  finely  mixed  with  Early  English,  the  Nor- 
man, or  circular  arches  resting  on  rather  slender  columns.  It 
was  built  by  Bishop  Pudsey  in  the  twelfth  century.  In  this 
chapel  are  the  remains  of  the  Venerable  Bede,  and  more  vene- 
rated dust  reposes  not  in  any  cathedral.  He  was  probably  born 
in  Monkton  in  Durham,  in  672,  and  died  at  Girvy,  May  26, 
735.  He  was  educated  in  a  monastery,  and  his  learning  and 
ability  as  a  scholar  and  writer  were  remarkable.  He  was  or- 
dained a  priest  at  the  age  of  thirty.  His  "  Ecclesiastical  History 
of  the  English  Nation"  was  a  work  of  great  labor,  and  is  still  the 
most  reliable  authority  on  the  early  period  of  which  it  treats. 
He  compiled  it  from  chronicles  and  traditions  handed  down  in 
the  convents,  and  from  miscellaneous  testimony  ;  and  it  is  re- 
markably free  from  those  exaggerations  and  contortions  which  fill 
many  books  of  later  monkish  historians.  His  other  literary 
labors  were  extraordinary,  and  his  devotion  to  such  work  was 
singularly  enthusiastic.  It  is  stated  that  during  his  final  illness, 
he  continued  to  dictate  to  an  amanuensis  the  conclusion  of  a 
translation  of  St.  John's  Gospel  into  Anglo  Saxon  ;  and  that  as 
soon  as  he  had  completed  the  last  sentence  he  requested  the 
assistant  to  place  him  on  the  floor  of  his  cell,  where  he  said  a 
short  prayer,  and  expired  as  the  last  words  passed  his  lips.  In 
the  cathedral  are  copies  of  his  "  Historia  Ecclesiastica,"  as  first 
printed  in  German  in  1475  >  others  are  in  the  British  Museum 
and  in  Paris.  They  were  translated  from  the  Latin  into  Anglo 
Saxon  by  King  Alfred  in  1644,  and  into  English  in  1722,  —  and 
many  times  since,  the  latest  translation  having  been  made  in 
1871. 


DURHAM.  249 

It  should  be  stated  that  pretended  bones  of  Bede  are  scat- 
tered throughout  the  world ;  and  though  his  monument  is 
here,  but  little  if  any  of  his  mortal  remains  are  beneath  it. 
Large  volumes  of  manuscripts  in  his  handwriting  are  in  the 
library  of  the  cathedral,  and  they  are  of  inexpressible  in- 
terest. It  is  related  in  the  old  chronicles  that,  being  blind 
during  the  latter  days  of  his  life,  he  was  led  one  day  by  a  dis- 
sembling guide  to  a  pile  of  rough  stones,  and  told  that  there  was 
present  a  company  of  persons  desiring  to  hear  him  preach. 
Inclined  to  gratify  their  request  he  preached  to  them,  and 
when  he  finished,  the  stones,  animated  by  divine  power,  ejacu- 
lated, like  an  assembled  multitude,  "  Deo  gracias,  Amen." 

In  this  Galilee  room  are  also  the  remains  of  St.  Cuthbert,  the 
patron  saint  of  the  church,  who  died  in  687.  He  was,  in  644, 
prior  at  Melrose  Abbey.  His  austerity  and  fondness  for  monastic 
life  were  remarkable,  and  in  order  to  gratify  his  feelings  he 
retired  to  the  Island  of  Fame.  It  was  a  very  barren  place,  and 
destitute  of  wood  or  water,  but  he  dug  wells  and  cultivated 
grain.  The  fame  of  his  holiness  brought  many  visitors,  among 
them  Elfleda,  daughter  of  King  Osway  the  Northumbrian,  with 
whom  he  condescended  to  converse  through  a  window  ;  but  for 
more  effectual  seclusion  from  the  self-invited  crowd,  he  dug  a 
trench  around  his  cabin  and  filled  it  with  water.  In  684  he  was 
induced  to  yield  to  the  prayer  of  King  Egfrid  and  accept  the 
bishopric  of  Hexam,  and  from  this  he  removed  to  Lindisfarne. 
After  two  years  he  resigned  this  office,  so  uncongenial  to  his 
taste,  and  retired  to  end  his  life  in  his  former  hut  on  the  Isle  of 
Fame,  He  died  in  it,  and  when  the  Danes  invaded  the  ecclesi- 
astical domain  of  Lindisfarne,  the  fleeing  monks  carried  his 
remains  with  them  from  place  to  place,  till  at  last  they  were 
deposited  on  the  banks  of  River  Wear,  where  a  shrined  convent 
arose,  then  a  church,  and  finally  this  cathedral  at  Durham. 

The  legends  concerning  him  are  among  the  literary  treasures 
of  the  cathedral,  and  by  reason  of  the  traditions  as  well  as  history 
are  not  unworthily  appreciated.  No  one  dead  has  spoken  more 
i.illy  to  the  living  than  he.  His  name  and  tame,  as  a  great 
intercessor  with  the  Almighty,  were  for  centuries  a  household 
word.  He  was  considered  by  the  northern  peasantry  as  the  saint 
of  saints,  and  constant,  tedious,  and  sacrificing  pilgrimages 
were  made  to  his  shrine.  Bede  says  that  his  body  was  found 
incorrupt  eleven  years  after  burial,  and  that  it  so  continued. 
The  coffin  was  opened  in  1837,  and  the  corpse  found  to  be  en- 
veloped in  five  silken  robes.     The  eyes  were  of  glass,  movable 


250  ENGLAND. 

by  the  least  jar,  and  the  hair  was  of  a  fine  gold  wire.  These 
things  were  done  by  deceptive  priests,  who  annually  pretended 
to  take  or  cut  hair  from  his  head,  which  they  said  grew  immedi- 
ately. This  is  not  the  St.  Cuthbert  who  was  a  Benedictine  monk, 
a  pupil  of  Bede,  and  who  attended  him  in  his  last  hours,  and 
finally  wrote  the  memoir  of  his  life.  There  was  yet  another 
Cuthhert  who  was  Bishop  of  Canterbury  from  740  to  758. 

The  cathedral  has  hut  few  monuments,  and  these  are  not  of 
great  interest.  It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  monuments 
seem  to  prevail  in  some  cathedrals,  and  that  there  is  an  absent  e 
of  them  in  the  others.  Some  communities  then,  as  in  our  own 
day,  appeared  to  consider  the  commemoration  of  the  dead  as 
a  religious  duty,  and  others  to  neglect  the  practice,  or  con- 
sider it  hardly  worthy  of  their  attention.  The  places  of  New 
England  burial  in  their  respective  variety  of  care  or  neglect 
attest  this. 

"  For  thus  our  fathers  testified,  — 

That  he  might  read  who  ran, — 

The  emptiness  of  human  pride, 

The  nothingness  of  man." 

This  cathedral  has  had  a  long  list  of  bishops,  and  among  them 
very  distinguished  men.  The  name  Durham  has  an  ecclesias- 
tical charm  to  a  churchman,  and  to  him  the  phrase,  "  Bishop  of 
Durham,"  suggests  honor,  dignity,  and  renown. 

Here  once  presided  Bishop  Poore,  the  famous  architect  of 
the  cathedral  of  Salisbury,  lie  was  translated  from  that  See  to 
this,  and  was  bishop  here  from  1228  to  1237,  when  he  died; 
and  then,  in  131 1,  Richard  Kellow  was  elected  bishop.  He 
brought  with  him  an  inflexible  piety,  but  colored  with  the  ex- 
tremest  humility  of  the  cloister.  He  was  celebrated  for  a  steady 
and  unflinching  sense  of  duty.  The  meanest  vassal  shared  his 
protection,  and  neither  wealth  nor  rank  could  with  him  screen 
a  criminal  from  punishment ;  and  the  proudest  baron  within  his 
bishopric  was  once  obliged  to  submit  to  the  public  penance 
imposed  by  a  humble  ecclesiastic,  who,  without  forgetting  his 
duties,  made  the  imposition,  and  was  sustained  by  Kellow. 

Richard  Fox,  the  founder  of  Corpus  Christi  College  at  Oxford, 
was  bishop  here  from  1494  to  1501,  when  he  was  translated  to 
Winchester.  He  was  afflicted  with  blindness  for  many  years 
before  his  death,  but  under  the  pressure  of  age  and  infirmity, 
yet  doing  his  work  well,  his  spirit  of  integrity  was  yet  unbroken  ; 
and  when  Cardinal  Wolsey,  desiring  his  place,  wished  him  to 
resign  his  bishopric,  he  replied  that  he  could  no  longer  distin- 


DURHAM.  251 

guish  black  from  white,  yet  he  could  discriminate  right  from 
wrong,  truth  from  falsehood,  and  could  well  discern  the  malice 
of  an  ungrateful  man.  He  then  warned  the  proud  favorite  of 
the  king  to  beware,  lest  ambition  should  render  him  blind  to  his 
surely  approaching  ruin ;  and  he  bade  him  attend  closer  to  the 
king's  legitimate  business,  and  leave  Winchester  to  her  bishop. 
The  aged  prelate  died  in  1528,  and  was  buried  in  his  own  chapel 
in  'Winchester  Cathedral,  where  his  tomb  and  its  monument 
exist  as  fine  specimens  of  the  latest  style  of  Gothic  architecture. 

The  cardinal  was  himself  Bishop  of  Durham  for  six  years,  and 
by  reason  of  his  grasping  spirit  and  hold  on  the  king,  he  was  at 
the  same  time  Archbishop  of  York  ;  but  at  the  death  of  Fox,  the 
longed-for  chair  was  vacant ;  he  at  once  resigned  York,  and  was 
made  Bishop  of  Winchester.  He  continued  to  hold  the  See  of 
Durham,  but  was  never  afterwards  known  to  visit  it. 

It  would  be  pleasant  as  well  as  instructing  to  review  the  life  of 
this  remarkable  man,  but  limits  forbid.  Other  bishops  could 
with  advantage  be  spoken  of,  —  and  they  are  many,  and  the 
record  is  interesting,  —  but  we  must  forbear. 

We  only  say  in  closing,  that  very  eminent  and  conspicuous 
among  them  is  the  name  of  Joseph  Butler,  who  was  made  Bishop 
of  Durham  in  1 750,  having  been  translated  from  the  See  of 
Bristol.  He  was  born  in  Wantage,  May  18,  1692,  and  died  at 
Bath,  while  there  on  a  visit  in  hope  of  recovering  his  health, 
June  16,  1752.  No  man  has  possessed  more  strength  of  mind, 
or  better  acuteness  and  clearness  of  reasoning  than  he,  and  of 
this  his  well  known  "  Analogy  of  Religion  "  is  ample  proof.  Nor 
have  any  excelled  him  in  goodness  of  heart.  He  held  the  See 
but  eighteen  months  ;  and,  although  in  advanced  years,  he  is 
spoken  of  to  this  day  as  a  person  of  genuine  modesty  and  a  nat- 
ural sweetness  of  disposition.  It  is  said  that  when  engaged  in 
the  more  immediate  work  of  his  office,  —  preaching,  —  that  a 
divine  illumination  seemed  to  pervade  his  entire  being,  and  to 
fill  the  whole  atmosphere.  His  pale  and  wan  countenance  was 
!  up  by  a  transfiguring  light,  as  though  the  Holy  Ghosl 
were  indeed  speaking  through  him. 

We  must  refrain  from  a  long  <  Inscription  of  relics  and  espei  la] 
n  here,  but  will  name  a  small  box  in  which 
are  three  gold  seal-rings,  not  long  ago  removed  from  the  coffins 
of  bishops:  one  from  the  finger  of  Flumbard,  who  died  in  1128; 
one  from  William  of  St.  Barbery,  1153  ]  ami  the  other  from 
Galfred  Rufus,  1140.  Next,  are  rings  and  other  ironwork  from 
St.  Cuthbert'.  (  othn  :   also,  gold  hair-wire,  and  parts  of  his  robe. 


252  ENGLAND. 

Books  written  by  monks,  and  other  things  of  moment  and  inter- 
est, are  in  profusion. 

We  would  speak  of  the  remarkable  marble  pulpit  just  put  in, 
which  cost  $25,000,  —  of  the  elegant  stained  windows,  of  the 
grand  old  carved  reredos,  with  the  great  number  of  statuettes  ; 
but  we  must  forbear,  and  now  take  leave  of  the  grand  old  place 
and  of  Durham  itself.  We  have  named  but  a  few  of  the  many 
things  of  great  interest  and  moment.  As  each  of  these  chapters 
terminates,  there  is  painfully  apparent  a  consciousness  of  what 
has  not  been  described  or  even  named,  as  well  as  regrets  at  the 
fact  of  a  mere  skeleton  of  description  when  the  best  thing  has 
been  done.  If,  however,  enough  has  been  said,  and  left  unsaid, 
to  create  a  taste  for  further  reading,  pursuit  of  information,  con- 
sultation of  histories,  cyclopaedias,  and  repositories  of  informa- 
tion relating  to  these  things,  then  our  best  work  is  done,  and 
our  highest  anticipations  realized.  And  now  at  3.45  p.  m.,  this 
same  day  of  arrival,  we  leave  for  York,  the  seat  of  the  celebrated 
York  Minster,  of  not  only  English  celebrity  but  of  world-wide 


YORKSHIRE.  253 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

YORKSHIRE  —  YORK  —  SHEFFIELD  —  LINCOLN. 

WE  are  now  leaving  Durham  for  a  ride  of  sixty-seven 
miles  to  the  city  of  York,  the  other  fashionable  me- 
tropolis of  England.  The  passage  is  through  the 
county  of  Yorkshire,  which,  for  the  combination  of  good  agricul- 
ture, population,  manufactures,  beauty  of  scenery,  and  historical 
renown,  is  not  excelled  if  equalled  by  any  other  county  of  Great 
Britain.  The  people  are  peculiar,  and  have  a  dialect  of  their 
own  ;  they  are  tall  in  stature,  shrewd  at  bargains,  and  are  tena- 
cious of  their  own  manners  and  customs.  Here  abound  grand 
mansions,  and  large  tracts  of  land  laid  down  as  parks,  and  so  we 
find  less  uncared  land  than  in  any  other  part  of  England. 

One  cannot  travel  over  this  country  and  not  think  of  the  time 
when  William  the  Conqueror,  by  his  hostility  to  the  inhabiting 
Saxons,  caused  destruction  and  ruin  to  prevail.   History  says  :  — 

He  wasted  the  land  between  York  and  Durham,  so  that  for 
threescore  miles  there  was  left  in  manner,  no  habitation  for  the 
people,  by  reason  whereof  it  laid  waste  and  desert  for  nine  or  ten 
years.  The  goodlie  cities,  with  the  towers  and  steeples  set  upon 
a  statelie  height,  and  reaching  as  it  were  into  the  air;  the  beautiful 
fields  and  pastures  watered  with  the  course  of  sweet  and  pleasant 
rivers  ;  if  a  stranger  should  then  have  beheld,  and  also  knowne 
what  they  were  before,  he  would  have  lamented. 

We  do  not  stop  here,  but  can  hardly  fail  to  think  of  the 
Conquerer  himself.  As  he  lay  in  the  agonies  of  death  he  cried 
out :  — 

Laden  with  many  and  grievous  sins,  O  Christ,  I  tremble,  and 
being  ready  to  be  taken  by  Thy  will  into  the  terrible  presence  of 
God,  I  am  ignorant  what  I  should  do,  for  I  have  been  brought  up 
in  feats  of  arms  even  from  a  child.  I  am  greatly  polluted  with  the 
effect  of  much  blood.  A  royal  diadem  that  never  any  of  my  pre- 
decessors did  bear  I  have  gotten;  and  although  manly  greediness 
on  my  triumph  doth  rejoice,  V'-t  inwardly  a  careful  fear  pricketh 
and  biteth  me  when  1  consider  that  in  all  these  cruel  rashness  hath 
raged. 


254  ENGLAND. 

But  we  must  leave  these  intervening  lands  and  speak  of  the 
famed  city  itself. 

YORK. 

This  is  Old  York,  while  our  New  Amsterdam  that  was,  Man- 
hattan Island,  is  the  New  one.  It  is  the  capital  of  Yorkshire, 
and  situated  on  both  sides  of  the  River  Ouse,  at  its  junction 
witli  the  River  Foss,  and  is  175  miles  from  London.  Its  popu- 
lation is  43,709.  The  river  is  crossed  by  a  fine  stone  bridge, 
while  there  are  also  several  others  of  less  repute.  The  city  is 
very  compactly  built.  It  is  but  three  miles  in  circuit,  and  was 
once  entirely,  and  is  now  partly,  surrounded  by  walls  originally 
erected  by  the  Romans.  It  was  entered  by  gates,  four  of  which 
remain  as  they  were  centuries  ago.  The  streets  are  not  very 
wide,  but  are  well  paved  and  very  neat,  and  the  city  presents  a 
solid  and  substantial  appearance.  It  has  a  good  commercial  or 
trade  aspect  in  the  market  parts,  and  in  the  other  portions  has 
a  home-like  atmosphere,  and  a  very  large  number  of  hotels,  for 
the  place  is  one  of  resort  for  fashionable  winter  life.  It  is  the 
emporium  of  style  for  the  northern  part  of  England,  and  in  this 
respect  is  hardly  inferior  to  London.  The  buildings  are  mainly 
of  brick,  three  or  four  stories  high. 

Its  history  reaches  far  back  into  antiquity.  During  the  Roman 
dominion,  York  was  the  seat  of  the  general  government,  and  was 
important  while  London  was  yet  rude  and  semi-barbaric.  Are 
we  fully  prepared  to  realize  that  the  Roman  Emperor  Septimus 
Severus  lived  here,  and  here  died  in  the  year  212,  or  but  179 
years  after  the  death  of  Christ?  Here  also  died  in  306,  Con- 
stantius  Cholorus,  the  father  of  Constantine  the  Great.  1577 
years  are  gone  since  the  death  of  the  distinguished  individual 
named  !  In  the  war  with  William  the  Conqueror,  the  citizens 
joined  with  the  Scots  and  Danes  for  his  repulsion,  but  on  their 
defeat  they  razed  their  homes  and  city  to  the  ground.  It  was 
rebuilt,  and  was  destroyed  by  fire  in  1 137.  During  the  great 
massacre  of  the  Jews,  which  took  place  in  England  after  the 
coronation  of  Richard  L,  several  hundred  Jewish  inhabitants  of 
York,  having  in  vain  attempted  to  defend  themselves  in  the  cas- 
tle, slew  their  wives  and  children,  set  fire  to  their  houses,  and 
themselves  perished  in  the  flames.  Lord  Fairfax  captured  the 
place  from  the  Royalists  in  1644,  and  in  1688  James  II.,  for  its 
arbitrary  measures  in  opposition  to  the  crown,  took  away  its 
charter,  and  its  fortunes  and  conditions  then  varied  for  more 
than  two  thousand  years.     Indeed,  its  soil  is  classic  ground. 


YORK.  255 

Here  the  Emperor  Hadrian,  one  of  imperial  Rome's  distin- 
guished ones,  dwelt,  more  kingly  and  regal  than  has  since  lived 
any  king.  Over  these  roads  Severus,  the  great  Emperor,  has 
passed,  and  on  Stiver's  Hill,  west  of  the  city,  the  funeral  obse- 
quies over  his  mortal  remains  took  place.  Here  Constantine, 
the  first  great  Christian  of  many  who  came  out  of  paganism, 
also  dwelt.  Everywhere  there  is  a  classic  renown.  Do  we,  as 
we  are  walking  here  on  this  fine  summer  day,  comprehend  the 
scheme  ?  The  birds  in  these  trees  sing  as  sweetly  as  in  olden 
time  ;  the  sheep  graze  quietly  on  the  outlying  plains  as  they 
did  a  thousand  years  ago.  The  shadows,  made  by  passing 
clouds,  chase  each  other  across  our  path  as  others  did  over 
theirs.  Here  are  the  same  sun  and  similar  clouds,  and  birds 
and  trees,  but  the  seasons  of  a  thousand  and  a  half  of  years  in- 
tervene. Millions  of  beings  have  lived  and  died.  Their  dust 
has  mingled  with  parent  soil ;  it  has  been  caught  up,  and  trans- 
formed into  plant  and  flower  and  tree  ;  and,  passing  through 
fruit,  or  flesh  of  animal,  into  humanity,  has  gone  back  again  and 
become  mingled,  and  out  into  life  yet  again,  and  its  history  has 
been  repeated  in  new  organizations  and  bodies  and  forms. 

We  talk  not  of  transmigration  of  soul,  but  we  may  say  that 
the  process  has  developed  a  better  phase  of  humanity ;  and 
these  last  productions  are  more  imperial  and  royal  than  Ha- 
drian, Septimus,  or  Constantine  ;  than  William  the  Conqueror, 
Edward  the  Confessor,  than  Cromwell,  Jeffries,  or  Laud.  Up- 
ward and  onward  has  been  the  march.  The  millennium  has 
come  in  this  way,  and  humanity  has  marched  with  steady  tread 
towards  it.  Queen  Victoria  and  Dean  Stanley  and  John  Bright 
and  Gladstone  are  the  blossoms,  or  a  flowering-out,  —  a  grand 
fruitage.  In  them,  also,  are  the  seed  and  germs  of  a  yet  greater 
progress,  and  another  day  is  to  gather  fruit  from  these  later 
trees,  the  leaves  of  which  "  are  for  the  healing  of  the  nations." 

York  gave  birth,  May  8,  1731,  to  Beilby  Porteus,  a  distin- 
guished prelate,  who  was  chaplain  to  Seeker,  the  Archbishop  of 
1  -rbury,  in  1 762,  chaplain  to  George  III.  in  1769,  Bishop 
of  Chester  in  1776,  and  Bishop  of  London,  1787,  where  he  pre- 
sided till  his  death,  May  14,  1808.  And  she  is  also  honored 
as  being  the  birthplace  of  John  Flaxraan,  the  renowned  sculp- 
tor, who  w.is  born  July  6,  1755,  and  died  at  London,  Dec.  9, 
1826.  Among  his  well-known  produi  tions  are  the  monuments 
of  the  poel  Collins  at  Winchester  Cathedral,  of  Lord  Nelson 

and  of  Howe,  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  of  Mansfield,  and  of 
Kemble.      In  early  days   he   supported  himself  by  making  de- 


256  ENGLAND. 

signs  for  the  Wedgewoods,  manufacturers  of  celebrated  pottery 
and  works  of  ceramic  art ;  and  by-and-by  he  astonished  the 
world  by  his  artistic  illustration  of  Homer  and  yEschylus,  and 
afterwards  of  Dante.  He  was  also  the  author  of  Scriptural  com- 
positions,—  excelling  in  fine  diction  as  well  as  in  deep  religious 
fervor  and  pathos. 

Here,  a.  d.  735,  more  than  1100  years  ago,  was  born  Flaccus 
Albinus  Alcuin,  even  for  that  early  day  an  eminent  scholar  and 
churchman,  and  a  pupil  of  the  Venerable  Bede.  He  was  a 
schoolmaster  and  librarian  at  the  cathedral ;  and  later,  by  invi- 
tation of  Emperor  Charlemagne,  in  780,  he  went  to  France, 
probably  to  Aix  la  Chapelle,  and  opened  a  school,  where  his 
instructions  were  attended  by  the  Emperor  and  his  court ;  and 
this  school  is  presumed  to  be  the  germ  of  the  present  Univer- 
sity of  Paris.  He  was  the  intimate  friend  and  confidential  ad- 
viser of  the  Emperor,  and  so  even  the  destinies  of  nations  are 
traced  directly  to  him.  Although  he  was  the  most  learned  man 
of  his  age,  eloquent,  pious,  and  renowned,  yet  his  extreme  mod- 
esty and  fineness  of  temperament  and  nature  caused  him  to 
shrink  from  the  responsibilites  of  a  bishop  ;  and,  though  re- 
peatedly urged  to  permit  his  ordination  as  such,  he  peremptorily 
refused,  and  would  accept  no  higher  office  than  that  of  deacon. 
He  died  lamented  as  few  ever  can  be,  May  19,  804,  1079  years 
ago. 

Here  was  born  in  1606,  and  died  in  1682,  Sir  Thomas  Her- 
bert, the  renowned  traveller.  Anticipating  Stanley  two  and  a 
half  centuries,  he  published  in  1634  his  celebrated  work,  "  Some 
Years'  Travels  into  Africa,  and  the  Great  Asia,  especially  the 
Territories  of  the  Persian  Monarchy."  He  was  made  a  baron 
by  Charles  II.  Though  a  stanch  and  avowed  Presbyterian,  so 
kind  was  he,  and  so  courteous  in  disposition  and  manner,  that 
Charles  I.  retained  him  as  one  of  his  attendants  to  the  last,  long 
after  all  the  others  had  been  dismissed.  We  close  the  list  of 
notable  men  by  naming  but  one  more  of  a  vast  number,  — 
William  Etty,  the  painter,  born  here  March  10,  1787.  He  was 
a  pupil  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  and  for  a  time  unsuccessful ; 
but  in  183 1  one  of  his  pictures  was  admitted  to  the  exhibition 
given  by  the  Royal  Academy,  and  this  brought  him  before  the 
public  as  an  artist  of  ability.  It  was  his  "  Cleopatra's  Arrival  at 
Celicia,"  in  which  the  nude  female  form  was  depicted  with  re- 
markable correctness  and  voluptuous  glow  of  color.  He  is  now 
considered  to  have  been  one  of  the  chief  artists  of  the  English 
school.     He  wrote  his  own  biography,  which  was  published  in 


YORK.  257 

the  London  Art  Journal  in  1849.  He  died  at  York,  Nov.  13, 
of  the  same  year,  at  the  age  of  sixty-two.  The  temptation  is 
irresistible  to  add  that  in  Keighly,  a  near  town,  on  the  8th  of 
December,  1823,  was  born  that  distinguished  preacher  and  em- 
inent lecturer,  Rev.  Robert  Collyer,  late  of  Unity  Church,  Chi- 
cago, now  of  the  Church  of  the  Messiah,  New  York  ;  so  that,  by 
personal  ties,  Old  and  New  York  are  worthily  connected.  Of 
the  noble  record  of  men  of  Yorkshire,  there  is  none  of  which 
she  may  entertain  a  juster  pride,  than  that  of  our  great  American 
divine. 

We  now  leave  York  as  a  city,  and  her  especial  celebrities,  to 
speak  of  two  things  of  great  interest  to  all  tourists,  viz  :  the 
remains  of  the  abbey,  and  the  famed  York  Minster.  The  Ab- 
bey of  St.  Mary,  now  a  mass  of  elegant  ruins,  is  not  far  from  the 
Minster.  It  was  founded  by  William  Rufus,  who  was  slain  in 
the  New  Forest,  Aug.  2,  1100.  The  college  connected  with 
the  abbey  was  founded  by  Henry  VI.,  who  is  believed  to  have 
been  killed  in  the  Tower  of  London  in  May,  1471.  The 
grounds  are  acres  in  extent,  and  are  well  kept  as  a  choice  park, 
with  great  neatness  and  care.  We  enter  them  through  a  gate, 
at  the  side  of  which  is  a  lodge,  where  tickets  are  procured,  and 
guide-books,  containing  engravings,  and  an  account  of  the 
premises  from  their  first  use  for  the  abbey  and  its  collegiate 
purposes.  Elegant  lawns  and  undulatory  lands  are  here ; 
grand  old  trees,  large  and  vigorous  ;  finely  graded  avenues  and 
paths  ;  clumps  of  flowering  shrubs,  among  them  the  best  of 
rhododendrons,  which  on  the  day  of  our  visit  were  in  fine  bloom  ; 
and  to  add  to  the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  sheep,  such  as  Eng- 
land, and  perhaps  only  Yorkshire,  can  boast ;  Jersey  and  Al- 
derney  cows  quietly  grazing,  —  neither  sheep  nor  cows  noticing 
the  visitors,  the  best  possible  specimens  of  mind-their-own  busi- 
ness-individuals seen  on  our  whole  journey.  These  all  com- 
bine to  give  a  tranquillity  and  finish  to  the  landscape,  such  as 
befit  the  place  now  in  use  for  centuries,  —  glorious  in  age,  and 
charming  in  its  loveliness. 

The  ruins  are  of  the  choicest  and  most  enchanting  kind,  with 
high  walls,  columns,  arches,  mouldings,  buttresses,  and  every 
detail  in  full,  of  window  and  door;  and  such  a  carpet  of  nice 
low-cropped  but  thick  grass  as  is  seldom  seen.  What  finish 
everywhere  !  How  little  to  touch  in  the  way  of  repair  or  amend- 
ment !  Here,  as  on  all  ruins,  is  the  companion-like  ivy,  doing 
its  good  work.  These  ruins  seem  to  be  at  home.  The  Others 
we  have  seen  appeared  to  have  a  solitary  beauty  ;  but  here,  so  in 

'7 


258  ENGLAND. 

the  city,  and  surrounded  by  every-dav  life,  finish,  care,  and  ani- 
mation, they  arc  not  companionlcss. 

There  is  a  sweet  and  indescribably  good  influence  about  a 
place  like  this.  How  one  enjoys  the  odor  of  these  flowers,  the 
shade  of  these  venerable  trees,  and  of  the  walls  themselves. 
How  easy  it  is  to  commune  in  the  extemporized  reverie,  —  and 
it  's  no  hard  task  here  to  extemporize  one  ;  how  easy  it  is  to 
"  call  up  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep." 

We  examine  the  great  things,  and  then  sit  down  and  admire  ; 
next  we  walk  around  and  get  new  views.  We  think  of  novitiate, 
of  nun,  of  monk,  of  collegian,  dead  and  gone  five  hundred 
years.  Next  we  go  to  the  museum,  a  building  on  the  grounds 
and  part  of  the  good  premises.  Between  the  main  ruins  and 
this  building  are  small  ruins,  or  evidences  of  things  that  were, 
but  are  not.  We  go  in,  and,  as  at  the  gate-lodge,  a  woman  is 
in  attendance,  and  desires  a  shilling,  and  we  are  willing,  for  the 
treat,  to  each  give  her  one.  We  go  in,  and  what  interests  are 
awakened  !  Old  Rome  herself  can  do  no  better.  Not  works 
of  Knglishmen  are  now  to  be  examined,  or  of  Briton  even,  —  of 
Scot  or  of  Celt,  but  of  them  of  the  Eternal  City  bred  and  born. 

A  new  station  for  the  railway  was  built  a  few  years  ago,  and 
in  digging  for  the  foundation  a  large  lot  of  things  of  Roman 
manufacture  were  found,  which,  with  others  once  belonging  to 
the  venerable  abbey,  are  now  deposited  here.  Among  the  more 
noted  objects  of  interest  are  stone  coffins,  in  which  are  bodies, 
covered  by  a  coarse  cloth,  and  as  they  are  imbedded  in  lime,  it 
would  appear  that  it  must  have  been  put  about  them  in  a  liquid 
form.  Some  of  these  date  back  fifteen  hundred  years.  Next  are 
pieces  of  Roman  pavement,  into  which  are  wrought  various  de- 
vices ;  and  there  are  also  many  common,  red-clay,  earthen  pots 
and  jars,  or  vases  of  different  sizes  ;  a  majority  of  them  would 
hold  about  three  gallons  each.  These  were  filled  with  ashes  and 
burnt  bones.  They  were  nearly  full,  and  the  materials  had 
either  been  forced  in  quite  compactly  or  this  solidity  came  by 
reason  of  age.  In  a  glass  case,  some  sixteen  inches  square  and 
six  inches  deep,  is  the  scalp  of  a  Roman  lady,  almost  entire, 
showing  the  brown  hair  very  perfect,  and  arranged  as  it  was  at 
tin-  time  of  her  death.  This  was  taken  from  a  leaden  coffin  in 
which  were  found  the  remains,  the  date  showing  that  they  were 
buried  full  sixteen  hundred  years  ago.  There  is  also  a  display 
of  pottery  and  household  implements,  old  Roman  statuary  and 
utensils  ;  and  monumental  stones  and  things  of  the  kind  are 
here  in  abundance. 


YORK.  259 

Aside  from  these,  and  in  addition,  are  many  things  once  be- 
longing to  the  abbey,  —  the  whole  a  befitting  appendage  to  these 
ancient  grounds.  It  would  seem  that  there  is,  in  this  famed  en- 
closure alone,  enough  to  amply  repay  one  for  a  journey  from 
America  to  York.  If  these  ancient  things  could  speak,  they 
would  want  no  more  potent  words  put  into  their  mouths  than 
those  of  Burns,  when  he  says 

O  wad  some  pow'r  the  giftie  gie  us, 
To  see,  oursels,  as  others  see  us. 

We  are  depending  a  bit  on  punctuation  to  aid  the  thought 
and  application.  Not  so  much  as  having  heard  of  these  ruins 
beforehand,  we  were  the  more  surprised ;  in  plastic  condition 
of  mind  the  impression  was  made,  and  it  is  indelible.  "  Forget 
what  we  may,  let  what  will  of  our  thought  become  bedimmed,  — 
let  memories  of  St.  Mary's  remain  and  be  good  and  fresh  as 
now,"  said  we  then,  and  repeat  ever.  Our  first  visit  to  York 
Minster  was  made  soon  after  our  arrival.  At  6  P.  m.  the  doors 
are  closed,  and  as  it  was  near  or  quite  that  hour,  we  were  con- 
tent with  the  good  and  great  privilege  of  examining  the  elegant 
grounds  and  magnificent  exterior.  The  former  are  quite  large 
and  properly  enclosed.  The  same  carpet-like  lawn-grass  abounds, 
with  a  few  grand  avenues  and  paths  over  it,  and  trees  of  good 
age.  All  was  cathedral-precinct-like,  tranquil  and  sanctified  ; 
but  even  here  sin  and  its  consequences  were  present  in  material 
form,  and  the  manifestation  was  quite  what  happens  in  Boston, 
where  we  have  no  venerable  cathedral  nor  such  grounds. 

Off  a  hundred  or  more  feet  from  the  building,  reclining  on 
the  grass  and  asleep,  was  a  man  beastly  drunk.  Two  police- 
men came  and  aroused  him  and  led  him  away.  As  at  home, 
boys  and  women  were  interested  and  followed.  To  the  credit 
of  the  policemen  they  did  their  work  well,  and  in  a  way  befitting 
the  place,  they  could  not  well  use  less  force,  and  they  needed 
to  use  no  more.  As  we  saw  the  old,  old  sight,  we  thought  of 
the  terse  and  comprehensive  verdict  of  Boston's  once  famous 
coroner,  Pratt,  who  had  held  an  inquest  on  one  found  not  only 
dead  drunk,  as  this  man  was,  but  (hunk  dead ;  and  the  simple 
verdif  t  was,  "  Rum  did  it."  Many  instances  occur  where  we 
have  to  repeat  the  old  vrnli<  t.  It's  a  good  safety-valve  to  our 
feelings,  and  having  said  a  true,  a  comprehensive,  an  all-the- 
ground-covering  thing,  we  "  rest  tin-  <  ase."  Rum  does  it  there 
and  here  and  everywhere,  the  world  over. 

The   great  edifice  is  built  of  a  yellowish  and  perishable   sand 


260  ENGLAND. 

stone  ;  parts  of  it  are  now  in  much  decay,  and  the  dust  or  sand 
lay  in  small  heaps,  even  about  the  threshold  of  the  main  en- 
trance doors.  It  reminded  us  of  the  yellow  dirt  we  call  pow- 
der-post, from  a  dry-rot  decaying  pine  timber.  For  the  most 
part,  however,  the  structure  is  in  good  repair,  and  in  a  short 
time  this  great  west  front  will  be  attended  to.  The  decorations 
of  this  part  are  very  rich  and  elaborate.  The  whole  is  of  exqui- 
site proportions  and  design,  even  to  minute  details.  This  is  the 
most  highly  wrought  of  all  the  cathedral  churches  of  England.  It 
is  the  largest  so  far  as  extent  of  ground  covered,  though  not  the 
longest,  as  it  is  excelled  in  length  by  Winchester,  and  perhaps 
by  one  or  two  others.  The  history  of  the  establishment  begins 
in  the  seventh  century ;  but  the  present  edifice  was  not  begun 
till  after  1150,  and  it  was  not'completed  till  1472,  and  had  been 
twenty  years  finished  when  Columbus  discovered  America.  It  is 
in  the  form  of  a  cross,  with  a  magnificent  square  central  tower 
at  the  intersection,  213  feet  high,  or  only  seven  feet  lower  than 
Bunker  Hill  monument,  though  it  has  not  that  effect  of  height. 
There  are  two  other  towers  flanking  the  west  front.  These  are 
each  196  feet  high.  They  end  with  an  elegant  light  parapet, 
and  turrets  at  the  four  corners  and  centres.  The  extreme 
length  is  524  feet.  The  breadth  at  transepts  is  247  feet.  The 
great  east  window  is  78  feet  high  and  32  feet  wide,  filled  with 
elegant  stained  glass  representing  about  200  historic  events. 
The  tower  has  a  peal  of  12  bells,  one  of  which  weighs  11  1-2 
tons,  and  is  with  the  exception  of  that  on  the  great  clock  tower 
at  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  the  new  one  just  placed  on  the 
tower  of  St.  Paul's  at  London,  the  largest  bell  in  the  kingdom. 

We  have  spoken  especially  of  its  exterior,  and  are  to  speak 
of  its  interior  and  its  bishops ;  but  before  we  do  so,  we  are  in- 
clined to  think  we  shall  once  for  all  render  a  good  service  if  we 
devote  part  of  our  space  to  saying  a  few  words  in  defining  or 
explaining  these  terms,  minster  and  cathedral,  for  as  a  general 
thing  they  are  not  well  understood.  We  have  previously  said 
something  on  the  point,  but  at  the  risk  of  being  accused  of 
repetition,  will  more  definitely  state  the  case. 

Till  the  time  of  Constantine  no  houses  for  Christian  worship 
existed.  After  his  conversion  to  Christianity,  or  as  soon  as 
a.  d.  325,  they  were  not  only  tolerated  but  encouraged.  Soon 
some  of  them  came  to  be  large  and  imposing,  and  the  assem- 
blies were  composed  of  rich  and  influential  persons.  These 
congregations  being  able  to  well  support  and  appreciate  preach- 
ers of  ability  and  renown,  such  divines  were  established  at  im- 


YORK.  261 

portant  stations.  By  and  by  assistants  were  demanded ;  next, 
canons  or  special  preachers  ;  and  yet  again  others,  as  assistants 
in  parish  work.  A  place  like  this  was  called  a  cathedral,  and  all 
such  churches  were  known  by  that  name.  In  process  of  time 
the  term  came  to  denote  only  the  one  church  in  a  diocese  at 
which  the  bishop  presided,  or  was  identified  with,  and  is  so  used 
to  this  day.  There  were  of  course  other  large  churches  or 
edifices  quite  equalling  in  financial  standing,  or  in  social  and 
general  dignity  and  influence,  the  cathedral  itself,  and  these  were 
not  inclined  to  pay  obedience  to  the  bishop,  and  they  simply 
remained  as  they  were,  —  in  fellowship,  if  we  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, with  the  whole  Church,  but  yet  independent  of  it  so  far 
as  the  bishop's,  or  any  outside  authority,  was  concerned ;  so  it 
is  seen  that  Independency  did  not  originate  with  the  Puritans 
or  Dissenters.  Westminster  Abbey  is  of  this  class,  and  this 
accounts  for  the  independent  condition  of  Dean  Stanley,  who 
from  his  office  of  Dean  of  Westminster,  owed  no  allegiance  to 
the  Bishop  of  London,  although  the  abbey  is  but  a  mile  from, 
and  in  sight  of,  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  An  abbey  like  Westmin- 
ster is,  if  we  may  so  say,  the  church  of  an  abbey  once  at  West- 
minster ;  while  the  abbey  itself  was  destroyed,  the  church  has 
remained.  A  minster  like  this  at  York,  or  that  at  Beverly,  is  the 
church  edifice,  or  place  of  religious  worship,  of  a  former  monas- 
tery, and  so  is  called  York  minster. 

Next  a  word  in  regard  to  the  Archbishopric  of  York.  An 
archbishop  is  the  head  bishop,  to  preside  at  meetings  of  the 
house  of  bishops,  and  to  exercise  some  especial  functions,  like 
the  president  of  an  association,  but  subject  to  rules  and  regula- 
tions in  the  performance  of  his  work  as  set  forth  by  ecclesiastical 
laws  made  by  the  convocation  of  bishops.  Canterbury  has  from 
the  first  been  the  seat  of  the  archbishop,  and  of  course  great 
importance  and  dignity  attach  to  the  place  where  the  arch- 
»p's  seat  is.  York  having  for  centuries  been  very  impor- 
tant in  wealth  and  social  standing,  and  possessing  the  grand  <>'d 
minster,  disputed  this  claim,  and  al  time's  was  influential  enough 
riousty  interfere  with  the  ancient  arrangement;  and,  as  a 
sort  of  compromise,  York  was  advanced  to  a  position  second 
only  to  that  of  Canterbury.  Its  bishop,  or  head  official,  is  dig- 
nified with  the  title  of  Archbishop  of  York,  and  is  therefore  the 
!  primate  <>f  England  ;  or,  as  we  may  better  express  it.  he 
is  the  vice-bishop  of  the  entire  English  Church.  The  principal 
Be  it  of  the  \v<  hbishop  oi  ( lanterbury,  and  of  the  whole  ( Ihurch, 
is  at  Lambeth  Palace,  on  the  Thames  below  Southwark,  and 


262  ENGLAND. 

opposite  the  Houses  of  Parliament.  Here  are  held  all  great 
convocations  of  bishops,  and  the  business  of  the  Church  is 
done  here  ;  but  by  ancient  usage  Canterbury  Cathedral  is  the 
seat  of  the  archbishop,  or,  as  he  is  termed,  the  Primate  of  all 
England.  Some  years  ago  an  arrangement  was  made  whereby 
some  few  places,  or  Sees,  hereafter  named,  were  given  into  the 
charge  of  the  Archbishop  of  York,  so  that  he  is  an  archbishop  by 
virtue  of  his  office,  though  yet  inferior  to  his  lordship  of  Canter 
bury.  We  next  proceed,  after  the  long  digression,  to  speak  of 
the  interior  of  the  cathedral,  or  minster. 

It  is  grand  and  imposing,  and  its  great  width  and  height  im- 
press the  beholder  with  a  feeling  of  reverence  and  awe.  The 
windows  are  of  painted  glass.  Most  of  them  are  ancient  and 
dim-appearing,  and  probably  were  never  of  rich  design  or  very 
brilliant  color.  Every  part  of  this  vast  interior  is  in  the  best 
possible  repair,  and  the  utmost  neatness  prevails.  The  cathe- 
dral has  a  crypt,  or  basement,  and  centuries  ago  it  was  customary 
to  hold  services  in  it.  By  the  payment  of  a  sixpence  each,  per- 
sons are  permitted  to  visit  it  in  company  with  the  verger  ;  and 
at  all  cathedrals,  and  in  waiting,  are  these  guides.  It  should  be 
understood  that  visitors  are  freely  and  gratuitously  admitted  at 
any  time  from  sunrise  to  sunset  to  all  the  cathedrals,  but  for 
visiting  especial  parts,  such  as  the  top  of  the  tower,  the  crypt, 
if  there  is  one,  or  places  where  valuable  relics  are  kept,  this 
small  fee  named  is  taken,  first,  as  payment  of  salary  for  the 
guides,  who  are  in  constant  attendance,  and  next,  the  surplus 
goes  for  repairs  of  the  cathedral ;  and  we  may  add  that  we  visited 
none  where  workmen  were  not  making  repairs. 

We  cheerfully  paid  our  fee  and  went  down  into  the  grand  old 
crypt,  now  full  one  thousand  years  old.  Indescribable  are  the 
sensations  experienced  and  the  emotions  awakened  as  one  is 
here.  The  place  is  but  dimly  lighted,  and  there  are  antique 
and  grotesque  columns  and  arches,  solid,  prison-like  masonry, 
and  groined  ceilings  of  stone.  It  is  not  hard  to  imagine  the 
former  sound  of  sandal-footed  monks  or  nuns,  of  subdued  voices 
engaged  in  prayer,  —  to  know  of  the  odor  of  incense,  wan- 
dering about  the  columns  and  arches  as  it  did  of  obi.  All  is 
solid,  fortress-like,  and  secure  ;  but  in  spite  of  solidity  and  thick 
stone  walls,  the  aspirations  of  monks  and  nuns  went  out  through 
them,  for  their  prayers  were  not  confined.  Centuries  now  are 
gone  since  their  spirits  went  out  of  their  bodies,  and  the  custom 
even  of  their  service  here  came  to  an  end.  The  new  dispensation 
has  come,  "  a  better  covenant,  established  on  better  promises." 


YORK.  263 

The  race  has  advanced  ;  and  now,  nought  but  the  grand  and 
vast  .light  room  above,  the  incense  of  an  intelligent  devotion, 
and  the  music  of  the  great  organ  can  render  the  desired  aids  to 
devotion.  We  find  here  a  superb  reminder  of  a  vast  antiquity, 
in  a  piece  of  Saxon  work  in  stone,  of  the  herring-bone  pattern. 
This  was  part  of  an  ancient  Saxon  church,  built  before  the  visit 
of  the  Normans.  Do  we  comprehend  the  fact?  No.  We 
believe  the  story,  and  admire  the  place ;  and  next,  as  best  we 
can,  we  try  and  know  the  thing  as  no  one  can  know  it  for  us, 
but  with  only  partial  success. 

At  the  rear  of  the  altar  is  the  tomb  and  monument  of  Tobias 
Matthew,  one  of  the  early  translators  of  the  Bible  into  the  Eng- 
lish language,  who  was  the  author  of  the  address,  or  preface,  to 
the  King  James  translation  in  present  use.  The  chapter-house 
is  entered  from  the  north  transept,  and  is  a  room  of  remarkable 
elegance.  All  is  of  course  built  of  stone.  The  ceiling  is  strangely 
elaborate,  and  there  is  a  wainscot  around  the  room,  at  the  top  of 
which  is  elegant  flower  and  leaf  work,  and  vines,  with  a  profu- 
sion of  grotesque  figures  of  nondescript  animals. 

At  the  right  side  of  the  choir  is  a  chapel,  in  which  are  kept  a 
few  things  of  unusual  interest.  Here  is  a  Bible  and  Prayer  Book, 
presented  by  Charles  I.  to  the  cathedral ;  also  a  copy  of  the 
Bible,  in  two  large  folio  volumes,  given  by  Charles  II.  Next,  we 
have  a  fine  old  chair  in  which  sat  at  their  coronation  all  the 
Saxon  kings.  There  is  also  a  silver  crozier  of  seven  pounds' 
weight,  and  200  years  old.  As  at  Durham,  here  also  are  exhi- 
bited gold  seal-rings  once  worn  by  bishops,  and  each  is  nearly  or 
quite  seven  hundred  years  old. 

What  as  a  whole  was  most  entertaining  was  a  drinking-vessel, 
in  the  shape  of  a  buffalo  horn.  It  is  over  one  thousand  years 
old.  The  grant  of  land  on  which  this  cathedral  stands  was  made 
by  Prince  Ulpus,  and,  according  to  the  usage  of  the  time,  wine  was 
put  into  this  horn,  and  in  presence  of  the  cathedral  authorities 
was  drank  by  the  Prince,  or  donor ;  and  the  horn  was  then  pre- 
sented, to  be  forever  kept  as  evidence  of  the  grant.  The  last 
royal  marriage  solemnized  in  the  minster  was  of  Edward  III.,  of 
•nil  in  line,  to  Philippa,  daughter  of  the  Count  of  Hainault, 
Jan.  24,  1328. 

The  elaborate  choir-screen  is  of  a  light-tinted  stone,  ami  in 
<  ontains  statuettes  of  all  the  kings  of  England  from  Wil- 
liam the  Conqueror,  who  died  at  Rouen,  Sept.  9,  r.087,  to  Henry 
VI.,  who  died  in  1471  in  the  Tower  of  London.  The  structure 
was  injured  by  fire  in  the  roof  in  [829,  and  again  in  1.S40.      The 


264  ENGLAND. 

•archbishop's  palace  is  on  the  north  side  of  the  cathedral.  It 
wis  bnilt  near  the  close  of  the  twelfth  century,  and  is  used  as 
the  library  of  the  dean  and  chapter.  The  archbishop's  present 
residence  is  at  Bishopthorpe,  a  short  distance  from  the  city.  His 
ecclesiastical  province  includes  the  dioceses  of  Carlisle,  Chester, 
Durham,  Manchester,  Ripon,  Sodor  and  Man,  York,  and  New- 
castle-on-Tyne. 

At  2  p.  m.  of  this  Saturday,  June  8,  we  took  train  for 

SHEFFIELD, 

where  we  arrived  at  5.30,  after  a  ride  of  3^  hours.  It  was  our 
anticipation  of  remaining  here  till  dark,  about  9  p.  M.  ;  but,  owing 
to  an  earlier  departure  of  the  train  than  we  anticipated,  we  were 
compelled  to  be  satisfied  with  a  stay  of  but  one  hour.  Not 
entertaining  a  desire  for  long  tarries  in  these  great  manufactur- 
ing centres,  we  found  this  visit  answered  our  purpose  well 
enough.  The  city  is  situated  at  the  junction  of  the  River  Sheaf, 
and  three  smaller  streams  uniting  with  the  River  Don.  These 
streams  together  form  a  grand  water-power,  which  is  used  in 
this  great  seat  of  manufactures.  The  city  is  very  compactly 
built  on  the  side  of  a  hill  in  amphitheatre  form,  and  open  to  the 
northeast.  It  has  a  dingy  look,  and  is  much  smoked.  The 
streets  are  well  paved,  of  good  width,  and  are  quite  inviting. 
It  has  a  population  of  261,019.  Sheffield  was  one  of  the  Saxon 
towns,  and  received  its  charter  as  a  market-town  from  Edward  I. 
in  1296.  Early  in  the  fifteenth  century  it  was  under  control  of 
the  earls  of  Shrewsbury,  who  had  a  castle  here,  and  a  manor- 
house  in  a  park  a  mile  east.  It  was  in  one  of  these  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  captivity  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  was  passed. 
The  castle  was  demolished  by  order  of  Parliament  in  1648  ;  and 
in  1707  the  park  of  the  manor  was  divided  into  farms.  The 
place  is  celebrated  for  its  manufacture  of  cutlery,  as  well  as  for 
a  vast  amount  of  other  metallic  goods,  as  steel  wire,  Britannia, 
and  German  silver-work.  The  cutlery  business  was  of  very  early 
date,  and  a  Cutler's  Company  was  incorporated  by  statute  of 
James  I.  in  the  sixteenth  century.  It  had  a  large  monopoly, 
which,  interfering  with  the  business  of  the  place,  was  somewhat 
restricted  in  1801,  and  wholly  abolished  in  1814,  after  a  use  and 
authority  of  nearly  300  years.  In  1864  the  breaking  away  of 
the  Bradfield  reservoir  in  the  hills  above  the  city,  like  the  disas- 
ter at  our  Mill  River,  Massachusetts,  destroyed  $5,000,000  worth 
of  property,  and  caused  the  loss  of  300  lives. 


SHEFFIELD.  265 

The  town,  by  reason  of  neglect  of  proper  drainage,  is  very  un- 
healthy ;  and  in  addition  is  the  unhealthfulness  of  some  of  the 
occupations,  so  that  the  bills  of  mortality  are  greater  here  than 
in  any  other  place  of  England.  The  railway  stations  being 
about  a  mile  apart,  we  went  on  foot,  and  so  were  able,  aided  by 
the  amphitheatre-like  form  of  the  place,  to  obtain  a  pretty  cor- 
rect judgment  in  regard  to  it ;  and  then  our  remaining  ride  out 
through  it,  and  the  view  from  the  suburbs,  confirmed  all ;  and 
so  we  felt  that  it  was  enough  to  say  we  had  seen  the  famed 
Sheffield,  —  a  place  where  from  time  out  of  mind  have  been 
made  knives,  bearing  the  stamp  of  Rogers  &  Sons.  We  had 
hoped  to  catch  a  view  of  their  famed  manufactory,  but  did  not. 
This  name,  and  that  of  Day  &  Martin,  High  Holborn,  London, 
are  familiar  to  every  American  schoolboy.  What  civilized  com- 
munity has  not  at  some  time  used  things  from  both  places? 

At  6.30  p.  m.  this  Saturday  night,  when,  as  in  any  of  our  great 
New  England  manufacturing  places,  thousands  were  released 
from  their  week's  labors,  and  were  out  on  the  streets  for  their 
Saturday  night  purchases,  and  a  great  crowd  of  people  were  at 
the  station,  bound  somewhere,  —  amid  this  scene,  and  making 
two  of  the  crowd,  we  took  our  seats  in  the  car  for 

LINCOLN, 

and  in  two  hours  arrived  there.  Another  cathedral  town,  and  a 
grand  one,  the  capital  of  Lincolnshire  and  a  county  in  itself. 
It  is  situated  on  the  River  Witham,  and  has  a  population  of 
26,762.  It  has  grand  elements  of  antiquity  flavoring  its  history. 
It  abounds  with  ancient  remains,  including  the  castle  of  William 
the  Conqueror,  and  traces  of  town  walls,  a  gateway  of  which, 
still  standing,  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  relics  of  Roman  archi- 
tecture to  be  found  in  the  country.  It  has  a  fine  old  conduit ; 
also  the  palace  of  King  John  of  Gaunt,  and  many  antique 
houses.  There  is  no  single  place  of  England  where  there  is  a 
better  blending  of  the  very  old  and  the  very  new  than  is  to  be 
found  here.  After  the  departure  of  the  Romans,  Lincoln  be- 
came the  capita]  of  the  Saxon  kingdom  of  Mercia,  and  suffered 
much  during  the  struggles  of  the  Saxons  and  Danes.  It  was  at 
the  time  of  the  Conquest,  and  long  after,  one  of  the  richest 
I  id.     I'    uffered  greatly  during  the  baronial  wars, 

and  also  in  the  cii  il  ones,  when  its  grand  cathedral  was  used  for 
barra<  ks.  The  i  ity  is  well  built.  It  lias  an  old  and  substantial 
look,   though   not   one   of  antiquity  like  parts   of  Chester  and 


266  ENGLAND. 

Shrewsbury.     These  two  are  the  ones  of  all  England  that  carry  us 

—  by  many  of  their  houses,  stores,  public  buildings,  and  entire 
streets  —  far  back  into  an  exquisitely  interesting  antiquity.  Here 
we  have  all  the  marks  of  age,  of  good  old-fashioned  domestic 
life  and  comfort,  —  whole  streets  of  stores  of  a  fair  avi  rage 
grade,  and  a  busy  population ;  and  so  it  is  a  good  place  of  resi- 
dence, and  a  very  desirable  spot  to  visit.  The  principal  build- 
ings are  the  county-hall  and  jail,  within  the  old  castle  walls  ; 
the  ancient  guildhall ;  a  session-house  ;  city  jail,  and  house  ot 
correction  ;  and  a  grammar  school  founded  in  15S3.  There  is 
a  very  old  Roman  canal  called  Fossdike,  connecting  the  city 
with  the  River  Trent.  The  place  is  distinguished  for  having 
given  birth  to  the  renowned  King  John  of  Gaunt,  or  Ghent,  the 
fourth  son  of  Edward  III.,  born  in  1340,  and  died  1399. 

The  principal  industries  are  breweries,  tanneries,  iron-foun- 
dries, grist-mills,  boat-yards,  and  rope-walks,  and  in  the  vicinity 
are  good  nurseries,  lime-kilns,  and  brick-yards.  It  may  be  said 
that  this,  as  well  as  most  English  cities,  is  built  mainly  of  brick. 
The  land  is  level  at  the  railroad  station,  and  in  a  part  of  the 
business  portions,  and  then  rises  very  abruptly  and  at  an  inclina- 
tion quite  hard  to  climb.  Full  two  thirds  of  the  place  are  on 
this  hill.  The  streets  here  are  much  steeper  than  any  in  our 
Boston,  at  the  West  End,  and  a  few  of  the  thoroughfares  are  so 
conditioned  as  to  make  it  necessary  to  put  iron  hand-rails  on  the 
sides  of  buildings,  and  even  at  the  edgestones  of  sidewalks.  All 
is  very  clean,  well  paved  and  lighted,  and  thoroughly  supplied 
with  water.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  and  surrounded  by  houses, 
mansions,  and  stores,  are  the  grounds  of  its  grand  and  indescrib- 
ably fine  cathedral. 

As  we  have  before  said,  when  we  approach  one  of  these 
structures,  so  imposing  and  wonder-inspiring,  —  so  out  of  pro- 
portion with  everything  else  to  be  seen  or  imagined  in  the  region, 

—  when  we  suddenly  come  upon  one  of  these,  we  are  inclined 
to  consider  this  to  be  the  cathedral,  and  as  though  there  was,  or 
could  be,  but  one  in  all  England,  and  this  enough  for  all,  and 
that  the  remainder  were  simply  parish  churches.  We  wonder 
every  time  anew,  how  they  could  have  come  into  existence  ; 
where  the  means  for  their  erection  came  from,  and  what  in- 
fluence could  possibly  have  been  brought  to  bear  on  any  lot  of 
mortals  to  induce  the  required  interest. 

The  later  thought  is  that  it  was  done  centuries  ago,  when 
monastery  and  abbey  and  priory  and  convent  were  in  full  ac- 
tion, church  and  state  one,  Papacy  powerful  in  the  extreme, 


LINCOLN.  267 

this  life  nothing,  and  the  other  everything.  A  superstitious 
reverence  was  superior  to  an  intelligent  Christian  faith ;  and  so 
time,  labor,  money,  all  were  free  to  erect  these  great  centres  of 
religion  and  faith. 

Next,  the  country  was  divided  into  communities  with  interests 
of  their  own,  and  composed,  as  it  were,  of  tribes,  often  hostile  to 
each  other,  though  entertaining  a  common  superstition  and  rev- 
erence for  what  they  thought  to  be  truth  and  divine  things. 
There  were  few  roads  across  the  country,  and  so  comparatively 
little  intercommunication  or  exchange  of  thought.  With  no 
books  and  no  newspapers,  the  people  were  shut  in  and  igno- 
rant ;  and  only  was  the  condition  disturbed  and  the  lines  re- 
moved when  by  some  invasion,  —  as  of  Saxons  or  Normans,  of 
Danes  or  of  Scots,  —  or  the  result  of  civil  war,  the  kingdom  of 
Mercia  or  of  Northumbria  became  weakened  and  was  ab- 
sorbed by  a  stronger  power.  These  cathedral  towns  or  pro- 
vinces were  then  realms  with  an  identity  of  their  own  ;  and  so 
cathedrals  were  not  only  possible,  but  necessities,  and  were  be- 
gun, and  continued,  and  used  for  centuries,  till  by-and-by,  iso- 
lation being  unnatural,  the  great  laws  of  association  acting,  — 
for  "  He  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men,  to  dwell  on  all 
the  face  of  the  earth,"  —  as  enlightenment  came,  advancement 
came  also  ;  a  union  of  interest  followed,  which  meant  a  division 
for  use  of  the  best  things  ;  and  then  cathedrals  became  in  a 
sense  common  property,  not  only  to  people  of  England,  but  by- 
and-by  to  those  of  America  as  well. 

Protestantism  has  not  thus  far  been  favorable  to  the  produc- 
tion of  cathedrals  equalling  those  of  old  ;  but  it  has  of  late  begot- 
ten a  new  spirit  and  desire  for  restorations  and  repairs,  and  is 
to  day.  and  for  a  half-century  has  been,  conscious  of  its  respon- 
sibilities to  care  for  and  preserve  these  great  achievements  of 
genius  and  taste  ;  and  so  this  seed  sown  will  germinate  and  bear 
its  fruit,  which  will  be  in  the  "  good  time  coming."  Those  of 
that  day,  greatly  advanced  and  advancing,  will  build  new  ones 
outglorying  even  the  old.  This  is  sure  to  come.  The  race 
does  not  recede.  At  times  the  work  goes  slowly,  and  seems  to 
be  retarded.  The  march  is  yet  on  and  up,  despite  appearances 
to  the  contrary.  As  one  in  looking  at  a  company  of  persons 
passing  up  the  inclined  road  of  the  tower  of  Pisa,  when  the  com- 
ire  in  parti*  ular  positions  would  consider  them  at  a  stand- 
still, so  to  observers  of  humanity,  inaction  appears  sometimes  to 
be  the  condition;  but  it  is  on  and  up,  and  when  farther  around 
on  th  id,  the  whole  is  seen  at  a  Hank  view,  and  the  en- 

tire procession  i.->  found  to  he  grandly  advancing. 


268  ENGLAND. 

We  are  now  back  from  a  long  detour,  and  speak  of  this  ele- 
gant cathedral.  It  is  built  of  a  drab-colored  stone,  and  is  in 
fine  repair.  We  pass  through  a  large  arched  gateway,  with 
keeper's  lodge  at  the  left  hand,  and  into  the  cathedral  precincts. 
Not  now  have  weagreat  lawn  or  close,  but  nicely  macadamized 
streets  and  roads  in  front  of  the  great  structure,  and  along  the 
right  side  and  back  around  the  rear.  On  these  borders  are 
buildings  belonging  to  the  corporation, —  schools,  canons'  resi- 
dences, and  those  of  curates.  On  the  other  side  of  the  build- 
ing, and  at  part  of  the  rear  end,  is  a  fine  old  burial-ground,  of 
some  two  acres,  and  charming  in  the  extreme.  All  is  on  a 
grand  scale  —  cathedral,  streets,  and  grounds. 

The  great  front  has  a  peculiar  construction,  with  two  elegant 
towers  just  back  of  it,  each  180  feet  high,  of  very  elaborate 
finish.  There  is  another  grand  tower,  at  centre  of  building,  53 
feet  square,  and  300  feet  high,  equalling  Bunker  Hill  Monu- 
ment in  height,  with  a  third  of  another  like  it  on  its  top  !  In 
this  is  the  famous  bell,  Tom  of  Lincoln.  Cathedral  bells  have 
often  had  names,  —  that  is,  the  large  ones,  —  as  Big  Ben  at  West- 
minster, Great  Peter,  Large  David,  and  others.  The  cathedral 
is  524  feet  long,  and  250  feet  wide  at  the  transepts.  It  is  in  all 
respects  one  of  the  finest  in  the  kingdom.  The  interior  is  very 
light,  having  large  windows  ;  many  of  them  are  of  elegant  col- 
ored glass,  and  superior  to  those  at  York  Minster. 

This  cathedral,  like  the  others,  has  a  good  history.  In  1075 
Remigius  removed  the  Episcopal  see  from  Dorchester  to  Lin- 
coln, and  was  the  first  bishop.  Immediately  after  his  arrival  he 
began  to  build  this  church.  It  is  known  to  have  been  nearly 
finished,  or  at  all  events  ready  for  use,  in  1092.  Remigius, 
feeling  his  end  to  be  near,  being  then  very  aged,  invited  all  the 
prelates  of  the  realm  to  be  present  at  its  consecration,  which 
was  to  take  place  on  the  9th  of  May.  Robert,  Bishop  of  Here- 
ford, was  the  only  one  who  refused  the  invitation,  and  his  ex- 
cuse was  that  he  foresaw  that  the  cathedral  could  not  be 
dedicated  in  the  life-time  of  Bishop  Remigius.  In  those  days 
astrology  was  much  believed  in,  and  its  predictions  were  relied 
on  as  prophetic  truth  ;  and  strange  to  say,  the  Bishop  of  Here- 
ford's casting  was  right,  for  Remigius  died  May  8,  1092,  the 
day  before  that  set  for  the  consecration. 

Robert  Bloet  was  the  second  bishop,  and  he  completed  the 
work  and  dedicated  it  in  n  24,  which  was  not  till  thirty-two 
years  after  the  time  originally  set.  Of  course  great  repairs  and 
restorations  have  from  time  to  time  been  made,  and  there  have 


LINCOLN.  269 

been  large  extensions  and  additions.  The  interior  has  an  un- 
usual number  of  old  and  new  monuments.  We  are  hoping  that 
the  few  hints  we  throw  out  will  induce  readers  to  investigate  the 
cathedral  question,  and  an  abundance  of  good  information  can 
be  found  in  Winkle's  "  Cathedral  Churches  of  England  and 
Wales." 

It  was  indeed  a  hard  blow  to  the  Romish  Church  to  lose  these 
fine  buildings.  There  was,  however,  an  advance  made,  but 
"  the  end  is  not  yet."  The  intelligence  of  this  nineteenth  cen- 
tury will  not  long  be  satisfied  with  present  conditions.  Another 
and  fresh  Reformation  is  sure  to  come.  As  in  John  Wesley's 
day,  the  great  Church  needs  new  life  infused  into  it.  Rather 
than  ask  Methodists  to  come  and  be  absorbed  by  herself,  as  has 
of  late  been  suggested,  better  that  the  venerable  Mother  Church 
go  and  dwell  with  the  Daughter ;  but  neither  will  be  done. 
The  grand  old  historic  Church  will  in  good  time  come  into  the 
ranks  of  a  more  every-day  and  less  formal  life  ;  and  the  Metho- 
dist, while  retaining  a  good  per-cent  of  her  activity,  and  the  ele- 
ment that  reaches  the  common  people,  will  drop  some  of  her 
peculiarities  ;  and  as  humanity  advances,  both  will  move  toward 
each  other,  and,  acting  in  unison,  hasten  the  time  when  there 
will  be  but  "  one  fold,  and  one  shepherd." 

At  noon  of  this  day  we  left  for  Boston  ;  and,  as  ever,  the  step 
was  somewhat  reluctantly  taken,  because  we  were  in  love  with 
Lincoln  ;  but  Boston  also  had  charms,  and  so  we  wended  our 
way  there  on  this  fine  Whitsunday.  This  is  the  paradise  of  the 
year  for  travel  in  England,  and  this  is  an  Eden-like  portion  of 
the  old  kingdom  to  go  over.  How  hallowed  the  hour  is  ;  what 
better  one  in  which  to  go  from  this  cathedral  town,  almost  cele- 
brated for  its  hostility  to  all  that  savored  of  non-conformity,  to 
the  one  where  New  England  Boston's  John  Cotton,  her  early 
minister,  —  here  not  vicar  nor  even  curate, — left,  because  of 
his  non-conformity,  243  years  ago. 


270  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BOSTON  —  PETERBORO  —  LYNN. 

ARRIVED  at  2  p.  m.  on  Whitsunday,  June  9.  What  a 
charm  has  this  word  Boston.  It  is  to  us  of  greater  in- 
terest than  any  spot  in  Old  England.  Now  the  anticipa- 
tions of  years  were  about  to  be  realized.  This,  our  mother  city, 
is  a  seaport  of  Lincolnshire,  situated  on  both  sides  of  the  River 
Witham,  and  six  miles  from  the  sea.  It  is  on  the  Great  West- 
ern Railway,  107  miles  northeast  of  London,  and  has  a  popula- 
tion of  15,576,  which  was  the  number  of  our  Boston's  population 
in  1765,  more  than  a  century  ago.  The  two  divisions  of  the 
town  are  connected  by  an  iron  bridge  of  86  1-2  feet  span,  so  it 
will  be  seen  the  river  is  quite  narrow  at  this  part,  which  is  about 
the  centre  of  its  population  and  business.  The  place  may  be 
said  to  be  noted  for  the  neatness  of  its  streets.  It  is  well  lighted, 
and  supplied  with  water  from  a  distance  of  14  miles.  There  is 
a  grammar  school,  established  in  1554,  and  founded  by  William 
and  Mary.  It  has  a  court-house  and  a  market-house,  and  there 
are  commodious  salt-water  baths,  established  in  1830  for  the 
use  of  the  public.  Its  principal  manufactures  are  sail-cloth, 
cordage,  leather,  and  brass  and  iron  work.  A  monastery  was 
established  here  in  654,  by  the  Saxon  St.  Botolph,  and  was 
destroyed  by  the  Danes  in  870.  Hence,  as  Lombard  says, 
"  the  name  of  Botolph's  town,  commonly  and  corruptly  called 
Boston."  During  the  civil  wars  Boston  was  for  a  time  the  head- 
quarters of  Cromwell's  army.  Its  decline  subsequent  to  the  six- 
teenth century  was  caused  by  the  prevalence  of  the  plague,  and 
also  by  the  increasing  difficulty  of  the  river's  navigation.  The 
healthfulness  of  the  place  has  been  greatly  improved  by  drainage 
of  the  surrounding  fens,  and  commercial  prosperity  has  been 
somewhat  restored  by  the  improvements  of  the  river.  Vessels 
of  300  tons  may  now  unlade  in  the  heart  of  the  city. 

The  city  is  celebrated  as  the  birthplace  of  John  Fox,  the 
martyrologist,  in  15 17.     His  "Book  of  Martyrs  "  first  appeared 


BOSTON.  271 

in  London  in  1563.  In  his  introduction  he  says  that  it  details 
"  the  great  persecutions  and  horrible  troubles  that  have  been 
wrought  and  practised  by  Romishe  prelates,  especially  in  this 
realme  of  England  and  Scotlande,  from  the  yeare  of  our  Lorde 
a  thousande,  unto  the  tyme  now  present."  The  work  met  with 
great  success,  though  its  truthfulness  has  always  been  denied  by 
the  Catholics.    He  died  in  London  in  1 5  87,  at  the  age  of  seventy. 

The  building  of  most  interest  of  course  to  us  Americans  is  the 
grand  old  church  of  St.  Botolph,  for  it  was  in  this  church  that 
John  Cotton  was  vicar,  and  going  as  he  did  from  there  to  our 
Boston,  and  being  minister  of  its  first  church,  our  city  was 
named  Boston  in  honor  of  him.  The  edifice  is  built  with  its 
west  end,  at  the  centre  of  which  is  the  elegant  tower,  with  only 
a  narrow  road  in  front,  facing  the  river,  the  rear  end  extending 
well  up  into  the  fine  square,  or  most  business-like  part  of  the 
city.  It  is  of  a  brown  sandstone,  291  feet  long,  99  feet  wide  ; 
and  the  grand  west-end  tower,  with  its  fine  lantern,  but  with  no 
spire  above  it,  is  291  feet  high,  or  just  the  length  of  the  entire 
church.  There  is  a  good  burial-ground  around  it,  kept  with  re- 
markable neatness. 

The  interior  is  very  grand  and  imposing,  having  the  usual 
range  of  columns  and  Gothic  arches,  and  all  is  in  color  a  very 
light  cream-tint,  or  almost  white.  The  great  east  window  of  the 
chancel  was  paid  for  by  the  subscriptions  of  American  Boston- 
ians,  and  is  a  worthy  and  elegant  testimonial.  This  is  the 
largest  church  without  transepts  in  the  kingdom.  It  was  built 
in  1309,  and  so  is  now  574  years  old,  but  in  most  perfect  repair. 
All  the  surroundings  are  very  neat,  and  the  parish  is  one  of 
great  influence  and  importance. 

Rev.  John  Cotton,  who  connects  our  Boston  so  intimately 
with  it,  was  born  at  Derby,  England,  Dec.  4,  1585.  He  was 
educated  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  was  entered 
in  his  thirteenth  year.  In  161 2,  or  at  the  age  of  27,  he  became 
vicar  of  St.  Botolph's,  where  he  remained  for  20  years,  and  was 
noted  for  fine  elocutionary  power,  and  as  a  controversialist.  He 
inclined  toward  the  doctrines  and  worship  of  the  Puritans,  and 
was  so  influential  that  he  carried  a  large  part  of  his  people  with 
him  ;  and  great  danger  was  threatened  to  the  parish  in  denomi- 
national points  of  view.  He  would  not  kneel  at  the  sacrament, 
and  his  non-conformism  at  length  became  so  apparent,  and  was 
pronounced  so  odious,  that  he  was  ordered  to  appear  before 
Archbishop  Laud's  high-commission  court.  He  was  too  con- 
firmed in  his  opinions  to  recant ;  and  for  safety  fled  to  London, 


272  ENGLAND. 

where  lie  remained  for  some  time,  and  then  left  for  America, 
arriving  in  our  Boston,  Sept.  4,  1633. 

In  October  he  was  installed  as  colleague  with  Mr.  John  Wil- 
son, pastor  of  the  church.  He  was  for  a  long  time  the  leading 
spirit  and  mind  in  the  New  England  Church.  His  death  was 
occasioned  by  a  severe  cold,  taken  by  exposure  while  cross- 
ing the  ferry  to  Cambridge,  where  he  went  to  preach,  his 
death  occurring  Dec.  23,  1652,  the  length  of  his  ministry  in 
each  of  the  two  churches,  here  and  in  old  Boston,  being  alike. 
He  was  very  learned,  and  was  a  fine  Greek  critic  ;  he  is  said 
to  have  written  Latin  with  great  elegance,  and  it  is  stated  that 
he  could  discourse  freely  in  Hebrew.  He  was  a  strong  Calvin- 
ist,  often  spending  twelve  hours  a  day  in  reading  Cabin's 
works. 

He  was  very  strict  in  his  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  and  in 
accordance  with  his  interpretation,  and  from  the  authoritative 
nature  of  the  statement  that  "  the  evening  and  the  morning 
were  the  first  day,"  he  argued  for  the  keeping,  as  holy  time,  from 
Saturday  evening  at  sunset,  till  sunset  of  Sunday  ;  and  so  influ- 
ential was  he  that  he  stamped  the  impress  of  his  belief  and 
custom  on  all  New  England,  and  thousands  yet  living  remem- 
ber well  the  practice.  In  fact  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  find 
individuals,  if  not  families,  who  yet  observe  the  custom.  He 
was  zealous  for  the  interests  of  both  civil  and  religious  matters, 
as  he  understood  them,  and  was  rigid  and  intolerant  of  those 
who  differed  from  him  in  opinion,  however  honest  their  con- 
victions. 

He  was  a  great  foe  of  Roger  Williams,  and  did  much  towards 
making  him  odious,  and  caused  him  at  length  to  be  banished 
from  Boston  in  1635,  when  he  went  to  what  is  now  Providence, 
R.  I.  As  he  says  :  "  Having  a  sense  of  God's  merciful  provi- 
dence unto  me  in  my  distress,  I  called  the  place  Providence, 
and  desired  it  might  be  for  a  shelter  for  persons  distressed  for 
conscience." 

Mr.  Cotton  wrote  and  published  some  works,  among  them 
one  called  "  Milk  for  Babes,"  designed  for  children,  but  con- 
taining what  would  in  our  time  be  considered  strong  and  indi- 
gestible theological  meat,  and  so  it  is  very  properly  withheld. 
His  daughter  was  wife  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Increase  Mather, 
pastor  of  the  Second  Church  in  our  Boston,  who  was  president  of 
Harvard  College  in  1681.  Their  son,  the  renowned  Dr.  Cotton 
Mather,  who  was  born  in  Boston,  Feb.  12,  1663,  and  died  Feb. 
13,  1728,  was  named  for  his  grandfather,  John  Cotton. 


BOSTON.  273 

Our  time  of  arrival  was  too  late  for  attending  service  as  we 
thought  to  do,  and  so  we  enjoyed  a  walk  over  the  city,  and 
much  to  our  pleasure.  As  before  named,  the  river  runs  through 
the  centre  of  the  place  ;  and  at  the  principal  parts  a  wall  is 
built  along  its  banks,  with  good  cut  stone  for  a  half-mile  or 
more,  with  the  proper  stairways  down  to  the  water.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  way,  and  at  the  outskirts,  the  banks  are  very  muddy 
and  irregular,  with  deep  gorges  or  indentations.  They  were,  as 
we  saw  them  at  low  water,  full  twenty  feet  deep,  and  struck  us 
very  unpleasantly.  One  sight  impressed  us  rather  strangely  —  a 
series  of  sheep,  swine  (perhaps),  and  cattle  pens,  with  low 
fences  for  divisions,  along  the  centre  of  the  main  street  or  thor- 
oughfare, but  having  a  good  wide  avenue  on  each  side. 

Hotels,  or  taverns,  seemed  to  abound,  and,  as  in  all  England, 
they  have  peculiar  names.  So  interesting  was  this  idea  to  us, 
while  the  theme  was  new,  that  at  one  time  we  began  to  note 
them  down,  but  soon  found  the  work  so.  increasing  on  our  hands 
as  to  compel  us  to  desist.  A  few  of  them  —  though  of  course 
not  all  in  Boston  —  are  as  follows,  Old  Hen  and  Chickens, 
Ring  O'  Bells,  Little  Nag's  Head,  Raven  and  Bell,  Dog  and 
Partridge,  Grapes  and  Bell,  Five  Ways  Inn,  Packhorse  Tap, 
Hop-pole  Inn,  Leather  Bottle,  The  Old  Fox  Inn,  The  Three 
Cups,  Haunch  of  Venison,  Running  Horse,  Fighting  Cocks. 
These  are  but  examples  of  what  may  be  seen  in  almost  any 
English  town.  We  are  sorry  to  have  to  add  that  in  old  Boston, 
as  in  the  new  one,  rum-holes  and  drinking  places  abound.  In 
this,  the  mother  emulates  the  daughter. 

There  are  very  pleasant  walks  out  from  the  place,  and  we 
much  enjoyed  those  near  the  suburbs,  they  were  so  much  un- 
like anything  to  be  seen  here  at  home.  Some  of  the  streets  of 
this  Old  Boston  are  very  narrow  and  crooked,  though  not  espe- 
cially antique,  nor  very  ancient  in  appearance  ;  yet  these  low  two- 
story  buildings  had  an  entire  absence  of  so  much  as  an  intima- 
tion of  anything  new,  though  all  was  very  clean  and  tidy.  The 
walk  around  to  the  left,  at  the  edge  of  the  river  in  this  district,  is 
very  charming,  for  from  here  St.  Botolph's  great  tower  is  seen 
to  fine  advantage,  and  we  shall  never  forget  the  sweet  sound  of 
the  bells  at  sunset 

We  <  ontinued  our  walk  bark  into  the  square  at  the  rear  of  the 
church,  and  now  met  a  very  large  <  rowd  of  people.  No  home- 
ward-bound Catholic  audience  in  our  Boston  outnumbers  them. 
1  ervice  had  been  held  al  6.30  p.m.,  of  which  unfortu- 

nately we  were  not  aware.      We  availed  ourselves  of  the  Oppor- 

18 


274  ENGLAND. 

tunity  of  the  open  house,  and  so  had  a  good  visit  to  the  church 
itself.  In  one  of  the  walls  was  a  marble  tablet  set  up  to  the 
memory  of  John  Cotton.  It  was  put  there  by  American  sub- 
scriptions, through  the  labors  and  efforts  of  Hon.  Edward  Everett. 
The  tablet,  and  the  great  east  window ;  this  old  tiled  floor,  on 
which  we  stood,  so  many  times  walked  over  by  Boston's  great 
minister  ;  these  walls  and  columns  and  arches,  which  for  twenty 
years  resounded  with  his  voice,  —  how  befitting  were  the  influ- 
ences to  make  holy  to  us  the  Sabbath. 

We  had  walked  in  the  morning  about  the  great  cathedral  at 
Lincoln,  to  which  See  this  St.  Botolph's  pays  allegiance  and 
tribute,  and  where  Cotton  himself  had  many  times  worshipped, 
and  had  doubtless  preached.  We  had  perchance  kept  the  early 
part  of  the  day  in  a  manner  he  would  not  approve  ;  but  now 
sunset  had  come,  and  freedom  of  action,  according  to  his  law  of 
interpretation. 

Boston  has  yet  remaining  a  few  of  the  antique  buildings,  and 
they  are  prized  highly.  We  saw  one,  a  good  specimen  of 
the  kind.  It  was  of  the  timber-and-plaster  construction,  two 
stories  high,  with  three  gables  ;  and  all  was  recently  put  in  perfect 
repair,  and  it  is  said  to  be  600  years  old.  Near  the  venerable 
church  is  the  workingmen's  reading-room,  in  which  there  is  a 
case  of  books  donated  by  our  city  of  Boston,  or,  it  may  be,  by 
some  of  her  citizens.  We  were  happy  to  be  able  to  make  a 
small  contribution  in  the  shape  of  half  a  dozen  of  our  city  news- 
papers—  Heralds,  Travellers,  and  Journals.  We  had  taken  a 
room  at  a  quiet,  comfortable,  little  commercial-travellers'  house, 
—  and  most  of  England's  towns  have  them,  —  and  so  now,  at 
10  p.m.,  after  a  good  inspiring  ramble  along  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  among  nice  little  two-story  brick  houses  with  their 
pretty  gardens,  we  ended  the  day.  Monday  a.  m.,  up  early  for 
a  new  ramble  over  the  place.  It  appeared  charmingly  home- 
like. The  good  market-square  was  just  being  used,  and  stores, 
or  shops,  were  opening.  We  must  and  did  pass  up  once  more 
into  the  burial-ground,  or  churchyard,  of  St.  Botolph's.  W'e  ad- 
mired over  again  the  lofty  tower  and  belfry,  which  is  a  landmark 
forty  miles  at  sea. 

We  tried  to  think  of  it,  and  see  it  as  it  is,  hundreds  after  hun- 
dreds of  years  old.  As  the  strong  breeze  of  that  clear  morning 
blew  over  it,  and  whistled  about  its  turrets,  we  saw  its  great 
power  of  resistance  to  storms,  but  the  results  of  them  were 
apparent.  Time-worn,  weather-beaten,  and  old  it  looked  to  be  ; 
and  by-and-by  came  the  thoughts  that  never  do  come  early,  — 


BOSTON.  275 

that  all  is  ancient,  and  was  very  old  before  our  country  was 
thought  of. 

We  walked  along  the  farther  side,  to  the  great  east  division,  — 
for  there  are  two  distinct  parts  to  the  fine  old  edifice,  —  and  then, 
as  we  looked  critically  at  the  large  windows,  unusual  in  dimen- 
sions, and  filled  to  repletion  with  most  elegant  stone  tracery, 
we  left,  admiring  St.  Botolph's.  Next  we  passed  over  the  bridge, 
passing  by  the  nice  cream-colored  hotel,  and  through  the  long 
and  not  ovenvide  streets,  with  two-story-high  brick  houses  on 
either  side,  and  here  and  there,  on  side  streets,  a  few  gardens, 
all  not  much  like  things  American,  though  not  peculiar  enough 
to  give  them  great  interest ;  and  so  we  passed  on  to  the  station, 
and  had  been  to  Boston,  —  a  treat  to  us  then,  and  ever  since, 
and  the  time  cannot  be  so  extended  as  to  injure  the  charm. 
We  love  new  Boston  now  all  the  better  since  we  have  seen  the 
old,  and  know  it  had  an  honorable  parentage. 

We  now,  at  8.30  a.m.  on  this  fine  Whit-Monday,  June  10, 
leave  Boston  for  Peterboro',  another  of  the  good  cathedral 
towns.  We  have  only  just  begun  our  seventh  week  of  travel. 
As  we  here  remember  all  we  have  thus  far  written,  and  think 
that  only  six  weeks  have  been  employed  in  making  this  grand 
tour,  we  are  bewildered,  and  inclined  to  ask  :  Did  we  ever  em- 
ploy, or  shall  we  ever  use,  another  six  weeks  to  so  good  advan- 
tage? We  ride  on  among  the  hills  and  over  fertile  fields,  amidst 
fine  vegetation  —  fresh  from  some  showers  of  yesterday,  which 
we  did  n't  name,  they  were  so  little  disturbing.  We  are  charmed 
on  this  tour,  and  admire  the  industry  everywhere  manifest ;  as  out 
of  our  Boston,  good  cultivation  of  the  land  is  a  rule,  and  no 
exception.  Here  are  elegant  landscapes,  fine  trees,  single  and 
in  groups,  and  woods,  or  what  the  English  Bostonians  call  forests. 
We  had  wondered  how  these  things  were,  —  whether  all  the  trees 
had  not  been  cut  off.  We  were  prepared  to  see  miles  of  terri- 
tory treeless.  But  no  !  trees  abound,  and  over  pretty  much  all 
the  territory  we  have  been  through. 

Except  for  long  lines  or  masses  of  woods,  or  timber-lands,  such 
as  we  see  at  home,  the  aspect  varies  little  from  that  of  the  aver- 
age of  New  England.  All  that  strikes  one  forcibly  is  an  absence 
of  ruggedness,  and  such  rocky  or  barren  conditions  as  we  often 
find  in  New  Hampshire  or  Connecticut,  or  along  the  Maine 
shore,  'lake  the  good,  fertile,  undulating  part  of  New  England  ; 
remove  fences  and  stone  walls,  and,  instead,  put  about  a  tenth 
as  many  divisions,  made  by  hedges  ;  reduce  the  number  of 
apple  orchards,  —  and  you  have  the  English   landscape.    As 


27G  ENGLAND. 

you  near  the  seaboard  of  England  from  any  side,  you  get 
the  rocks,  and  more  of  the  seaboard  look.  This  is  strikingly 
so  at  the  south  part  of  the  kingdom,  towards  Canterbury  and 
Brighton.  Very  New  Englandish,  even  like  Essex  County 
from  Salem  to  Newburyport,  does  all  appear.  But  now  at 
10.30  a.  M.  on  this  Monday,  after  a  beautiful  and  refreshing  ride 
of  2 1  hours,  we  are  at  the  famed  cathedral  city  of 

PETERBORO'. 

Who  that  in  other  days  saw  the  old,  entertaining,  and  good 
Penny  Magazine  does  n't  know  something  of  this  grand  old 
place,  and  the  cathedral  with  its  three  great  west  arches,  and  its 
central  tower  without  a  spire  ?  This  was  a  semi-holiday  ;  it  so 
seemed,  for  most  of  the  inhabitants  were  in  the  streets,  and  at 
liberty.  A  pleasant  day;  but,  though  the  10th  of  June,  it  was 
cool  enough  to  make  our  overcoats  comfortable,  and  we  wore 
them  till  noon.  Valises  deposited,  this  time  at  the  station,  we 
went  direct  to  the  cathedral. 

It  was  a  way  we  had.  These  great  objects  of  interest  are 
centres  from  which  all  other  good  things  appear  to  radiate. 
Make  for  one  of  them  and  you  make  no  mistake,  for  enter- 
tainment is  at  hand.  You  are  well  pleased ;  all  thoughts  are 
occupied ;  other  persons  are  there  before  you,  and  are  like- 
conditioned.  Never  one  cathedral  yet  visited  when  we  were 
first  of  the  lot,  or  alone.  The  doors  are  always  ajar  and  the 
verger  in  readiness,  as  though  stationed  there  and  in  waiting 
for  us  in  particular,  even  as  though  we  had  telegraphed  .that  we 
were  to  come.  Not  at  all  officious  are  they,  or  over-inclined  to 
get  in  our  way.  Never  are  they  troublesome  or  interfering  with 
even  our  thoughts,  or  quiet  examination  alone,  —  but  tractable 
and  ready,  at  the  first  overture  on  our  part,  to  civilly  answer  any 
question,  to  explain,  to  tell  us  what  we  want  to  know.  They 
are  masters  of  the  art  of  judiciously  informing  us  that  there  are 
yet  things  hid  from  view  that  we  can  see  if  we  wish,  and  how 
gently  they  name  the  small  fee  required.  If  there  had  been  nor- 
mal schools,  or  rather  one,  in  all  England,  and  it  had  been  a 
requisite  before  employment  in  these  cathedrals  that  they  should 
attend  the  school,  graduate,  and  then  pass  examination  in  the 
way  of  doing  these  things,  —  had  this  been  done,  no  more  pro- 
priety and  judiciousness  could  be  manifested. 

We  were  surprised  with  the  building.  We  admired  it.  We 
had  been  so  highly  fed  on  food  of  the  kind  we  were  getting 


PETERBORO'.  277 

dainty,  but  this  was  taken  in  with  a  relish.  What  a  fine  close 
around  the  old  structure  !  How  quiet !  How  varied  its  land- 
scape !  Well,  the  whole  this  time  was  enchanting,  for  it  was 
unlike  others.  So  many  nooks  and  corners  for  pretty  rambles  ; 
so  many  old  walls  and  ruins  about  the  premises ;  for  very  ex- 
tended was  the  thing  here  in  the  centuries  gone.  We  were  in 
admiration  with  the  grounds  in  their  many  departments ;  for 
once  the  cathedral  itself  was  second ;  but  soon  we  turned  to  the 
thing  that  makes  the  grounds  what  they  are,  and  were  at  first 
sight  struck  with  the  good  repair  of  the  entire  structure,  and 
with  its  clean  and  solid  appearance.  The  architecture  is  Nor- 
man and  Early  English. 

It  is  very  old,  for  the  See  was  established,  or  rather  the  cathe- 
dral was  founded,  by  Peada,  one  of  the  kings  of  Mercia,  which 
was  one  of  the  ancient  divisions  of  England.  It  was  destroyed 
by  the  Danes,  and  afterwards  rebuilt  as  it  is.  It  is  476  feet 
long,  with  transepts  203  wide,  and  has  a  central  tower  150  feet 
high,  ending  with  lofty  turrets  at  the  four  corners.  There  are 
also  two  small  spires  at  the  ends  of  the  great  west  front.  This 
part  forms  a  section  150  feet  in  height  and  breadth,  and  consists 
of  three  magnificent  arches  80  feet  high,  surmounted  by  pedi- 
ments and  pinnacles,  flanked  by  the  small  towers  before  named  ; 
and  in  this  front  the  cathedral  is  peculiar.  It  was  begun  in  906, 
and  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation  was  considered  one  of  the 
most  splendid  religious  edifices  in  the  kingdom. 

The  interior  is  very  grand  and  imposing.  It  is  light-colored, 
almost  white,  having  been  restored,  as  it  is  called ;  which  means  that 
repairs  have  been  thoroughly  made  in  every  part,  and  all  washes, 
or  tinted  coatings,  have  been  cleaned  off,  and  as  near  as  possible 
the  work  left  in  its  original  or  natural  color.  There  was  a  time, 
however,  when  all  cathedrals  had  more  or  less  of  gorgeous  deco- 
rations in  fresco  and  high  positive  colors  ;  next  a  white  or  tinted 
preparation  covered  all ;  and  now,  as  that  has  been  removed, 
more  or  less  of  the  old  frescoes  show,  but  of  course  in  a  badly 
disfigured  condition,  and  are  only  interesting  as  relics  of  another 
age.  The  probabilities  are,  the  time  will  come  when  all  will  be 
re-frescoed  in  the  gay  colors  of  old. 

At  the  Reformation  everything  savoring  of  art,  in  the  way  of 
painting  in  churches,  was  condemned.  A  great  reaction  seems 
to  be  taking  place,  and  the  chun  h  has  discovered  that  it  is  quite 
possible  to  use  and  no1  abuse  these  things;  and  in  som<  in 
stances  artists  were  at  work  in  cathedrals,  painting  small  portions 
as  specimens  for  re-decorating  the  entire  work.     Some  examples 


278  ENGLAND. 

of  frescoed  ceilings  are  already  complete.  Peterboro'  is  now 
very  white  and  clean,  and  the  effect  of  its  great  interior  is  most 
pleasing. 

It  abounds  in  monuments,  and  many  of  them  are  of  great 
antiquity  and  interest.  Our  statement  must  be  so  meagre  that 
we  dislike  at  all  to  enter  the  field  of  description,  but  will  venture 
a  little. 

Catherine  of  Aragon,  first  wife  of  Henry  VIII.,  is  buried  here  ; 
and  it  is  said  that  on  account  of  the  fact  of  this  being  her  place 
of  burial,  the  king  was  pleased  to  give  orders  that  the  cathedral 
be  mildly  dealt  with,  and  so  it  escaped  that  destructive  action 
that  so  much  injured  all  the  others. 

Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  was  also  buried  here,  but  when  her 
son  James  I.  came  to  the  throne,  her  remains  were  removed  to 
Westminster  Abbey,  where  they  now  repose.  The  graves  of 
these  two  eminent  women  were  together,  and  now  the  verger 
tells  us  :  "  There  lies  Catherine  of  Aragon,  and  there  next  to 
her,  and  for  years  was  buried,  Queen  Mary,  but  by  reason  of  that 
letter,"  pointing  to  a  letter,  glass  and  framed,  hanging  near  by, 
"  her  remains  were  removed  to  Westminster."  We  peruse  the 
letter  in  the  king's  handwriting,  and  muse  on  the  fact  with  a 
melancholy  interest,  and  pass  on.  So  much  was  this  cathedral 
admired  by  King  Edgar,  that  he  bestowed  such  valuable  gifts 
upon  it  that  he  caused  the  name  of  the  city  to  be  changed  to 
Goldenburg,  the  Golden  Town,  which  title  at  length  gave  place 
to  its  present  name,  derived  from  St.  Peter,  to  whom  the  cathe- 
dral was  dedicated. 

The  dean  and  chapter,  by  virtue  of  their  office,  exercise  so 
much  authority  in  the  civil  government  of  the  city  as  to  make  it 
practically  under  their  jurisdiction. 

This  being  Whit-Monday,  and  a  holiday,  the  cathedral  was 
open  free  in  all  parts  to  the  public,  and  hundreds  were  going 
and  coming  all  the  time  we  were  in  it,  —  a  large  part  of  them 
doubtless  from  out  of  town.  We  were  thus  favored  with  a  view 
of  an  English  town  on  a  holiday,  and  traces  were  present  of 
what  gave  the  country  the  title  of  Merrie  Englande.  All  the 
people  were  well  dressed,  sober,  courteous,  and  full  of  enjoy- 
ment. Band-concerts  and  horse-trots  were  in  order,  and  a  bal- 
loon ascension  in  a  park.  The  eating-houses  were  full,  and  from 
our  experience  of  the  results  of  the  practice  "  first  come,  first 
served/'  it  practically  meant,  that  he  that  did  not  first  come, 
was  likely  to  be  served  poorly,  or  perhaps,  what  was  better,  not 
served  at  all. 


LYNN.  279 

Peterboro'  has  the  honor  of  being  the  birthplace  of  the  re- 
nowned Dr.  William  Paley,  who  was  born  in  July,  1743,  and 
died  May  25,  1805.  He  was  graduated  at  Christ  College, 
Cambridge,  in  1763;  in  1782  was  made  Archdeacon  of  Carl- 
isle. In  1 7S5  appeared  his  celebrated  work,  "  Principles  of 
Moral  and  Political  Economy,"  the  copyright  of  which  brought 
him  $5,000.  In  1 794  was  published  his  "  View  of  the  Evidences 
of  Christianity,"  and  in  1802  his  great  work,  "Natural  The- 
ology." These  works  were  long  used  as  text-books  in  theological 
studies,  and  mark  their  author  as  one  of  superior  intellect  and 
of  profound  reasoning  powers.  While  the  deductions  of  his 
reasoning  and  arguments  from  given  data  are  freely  admitted, 
yet  later  thought  —  and  the  breaking  forth  of  that  light  from  the 
Scriptures,  which  the  Pilgrims'  minister,  John  Robinson  of  Ley- 
den,  expected  would  come  —  has  destroyed  some  of  his  data,  or 
premises  from  which  he  argued,  and  of  course  the  results  are 
anything  but  such  as  in  his  day,  and  as  seen  from  his  standpoint, 
appeared  reasonable  or  right. 

In  the  vicinity  of  Peterboro'  is  Milton  Park,  the  seat  of  Earl 
Fitzwilliam.  The  estate  is  said  to  be  a  most  elegant  one,  and 
freely  open  to  the  public  at  certain  hours  of  the  day.  This 
custom  is  one  that  strikes  the  tourist  very  favorably,  and  always 
awakens  a  sense  of  gratitude.  No  cathedral  or  building  of  im- 
portance is  ever  closed  from,  say,  9  a.  m.  to  6  p.  m.,  and  facilities 
are  furnished  the  visitor  to  examine  all  parts.  Much  of  it  is 
entirely  free,  and  when  a  fee  is  charged  it  is  a  reasonable  one, 
and  only  such  as  will  prevent  a  rush  of  loafers  to  the  premises  ; 
and  the  fee  goes  to  pay  the  salary  of  the  attendant,  or  for  repairs 
of  the  structure.  And  now  at  3  p.  M.  came  another  time  for 
"  moving  on,"  so  we  took  train  for 

LYNN. 

As  will  be  observed,  we  are  at  times  in  places  of  very  familiar 
names,  and  to  us  this  is  one,  and  a  place  also  we  much  desired 
to  see  ;  for  from  this,  our  Lynn  in  New  England  took  its  name. 
It  was  arrived  at  after  an  hour's  ride,  and  is  a  beautiful  place,  in 
certain  respects  reminding  one  of  our  Lynn,  for,  although  the 
are  mostly  of  two  or  of  three  stories  in  height,  and  <>\ 
brick  or  stone,  yet  they  have  so  many  gardens   intervening,  and 

a  general  freedom  from  compactness  for  a  majority  of  the  place, 
as  to  give  it  a  somewhat  rural  character;  though  in  the  more 

immediate  business  part  it   has  an   old,  perhaps  aged  look,  and 


280  ENGLAND. 

is  compact  and  very  business-like.  The  streets  are  well  paved 
and  lighted  ;  there  are  many  fine  stores,  and  the  old  market- 
square  is  surrounded  by  very  substantial  stone  buildings. 

The  city  is  situated  on  the  River  Ouse,  nine  miles  from  the 
North  Sea ;  so  that,  as  at  our  Lynn,  the  salt  water  Hows  by  its 
few  wharves,  and  tides  rise  and  fall  regularly.  There  are  here 
also  salt  marshes,  and,  while  we  were  there,  the  tide  being  out, 
the  hanks  of  the  river  showed  to  worst,  or,  as  we  should  say  for 
our  purpose,  to  best  advantage,  for  we  would  see  them  at  their 
worst,  and,  from  the  "  lay  of  the  land,"  could  imagine  them  at 
their  best.  The  water  was,  at  this  time  of  tide,  down  some  20 
feet  from  the  surface  of  land,  and  was  perhaps  800  feet  wide. 
The  banks  were  quite  irregular  and  very  muddy  from  their  top 
down  to  the  water,  and  the  river,  while  running  in  one  general 
direction.,  was  rather  crooked.  From  the  opposite  bank  was  a 
grand  sort  of  upland  meadow,  of  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
width,  and  beyond  this,  slightly  higher  land,  stretching  well  to  the 
right  and  left ;  and  of  a  most  pleasing  nature  was  this  landscape, 
for  there  were  fine  mansions  embowered  in  fine  groups  of 
trees,  splendid  lawns,  and  every  evidence  of  a  good  civilization. 
Taken  as  a  whole,  this  peculiar  river,  with  schooners,  yachts, 
scows  and  fishing-boats  ;  a  general  lack  of  finish  to  anything 
about  the  river  except  the  grand  meadow  and  fine  domain  bor- 
dering it ;  the,  to  us,  very  natural  and  pleasing  odor  of  the  salt 
water,  —  even  New-England-Lynn-like,  as  it  was  on  this  fine 
warm  summer  afternoon,  —  these  combined  to  make  us  definite 
in  our  praise  of  this  Lynn  Harbor. 

At  our  back  was  the  city,  and  along  at  the  edge  of  the  river 
were  just  such  old,  and,  if  not  dilapidated,  certainly  not  lately 
built  or  repaired  wharves  ;  and  on  them  were  just  such  things,  for 
fishermen's  use,  as  are  required  to  make  a  place  of  the  kind  in 
harmony  with  itself  and  complete.  There  were  old  warehouses, 
three  and  four  stories  high,  quite  thickly  bordering  on  the  wharf- 
street,  or  narrow  roadway.  Not  a  thing  that  was  new  any  time 
during  this  half-century,  and  most  of  it  was  old  on  the  other  side 
of  1800  ;  but  the  aggregate  was  complete,  for  this,  like  our  Lynn, 
is  a  semi-commercial  place.  Back  of  these  storehouses  were  the 
town  streets,  and  the  good  business  portion  ;  and  here  in  the 
midst  was  one  of  the  best  possible  examples  of  a  very  large, 
almost  cathedralish,  ancient,  stone,  Gothic  church,  St.  Margaret's, 
founded  in  the  twelfth  century.  It  was  enclosed  in  part  by  a 
high  but  open  iron  fence,  and  the  usual  ancient  burial-ground 
was  about  it. 


LYNN.  281 

Another  church  of  antiquity  and  note  is  St.  Nicholas.  It  was 
erected  in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  is,  for  a  thing  of  the  kind, 
one  of  the  finest  in  the  kingdom.  It  is  in  the  Gothic  style,  200 
feet  long,  and  78  feet  wide.  The  city  has  a  population  of  17,266, 
which  was  the  population  of  our  Lynn  sometime  between  the 
years  1850  and  i860.  It  has  been  said  that  the  place  is  situ- 
ated on  the  River  Ouse,  that  stream  being  the  principal  river, 
but  there  are  four  other  small  streams,  or  navigable  rivers,  run- 
ning into  the  city,  and  these  are  crossed  by  more  than  a  dozen 
bridges.  Anciently  the  place  was  defended  on  the  land  side  by 
a  fosse,  which  is  a  ditch  or  moat,  with  here  and  there  strong 
bastions,  or  battery  structures ;  and  there  are  the  remains  of  an 
ancient  embattled  wall  and  of  one  gateway.  The  city  has  a  free 
grammar  school,  founded  in  the  fifteenth  century.  To  give  it 
character  as  a  place  of  antiquity,  it  has  the  ruins  of  a  convent 
and  an  octagonal  Ladye  Tower.  It  has  several  ancient  hospi- 
tals for  the  poor,  an  ancient  guildhall,  a  jail,  theatre,  library, 
mechanics'  institution,  a  large  market-house,  and  a  fort.  Up  to 
fifty  years  ago  the  trade  of  Lynn  took  rank  as  the  fifth  in  Eng- 
land. A  bar  of  shifting  sand  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  seriously 
troubled  it,  and  a  decline  came,  but  its  good  prospects  are  now 
on  the  increase.  It  has  quite  large  exports  of  corn  and  wool, 
and  it  has  shipyards,  breweries,  iron-foundries,  cork-works,  and 
rope  and  tobacco  manufactories  ;  and  steamers  ply  between  this 
place  and  Hull.  Lynn  was  remarkable  for  its  fidelity  to  the 
royal  cause  in  the  time  of  King  John,  who  died  Oct.  19,  1216  ; 
and,  as  a  reward  for  its  fidelity,  the  king  presented  the  place  with 
a  silver  cup  and  sword.  The  people  were  also  very  loyal,  and 
espoused  the  cause  of  Charles  I.,  who  was  beheaded  in  London, 
Jan.  30,  1649. 

Our  rambles  along  the  river  and  through  the  streets  of  this 
place  were  very  entertaining ;  a  rural  atmosphere  prevailed,  as 
before  named,  through  a  large  part  of  it,  and  a  good,  healthy, 
substantial,  business-like  air  through  the  remainder.  At  4.30  P.  M. 
we  took  cars  for  Wells. 


282  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


WELLS  —  NORWICH  —  ELY. 


T  11  TE  arrived  at  6  o'clock.  The  ride  from  Peterboro', 
\/\/      through  Lynn,  and  to  Wells,  was  a  pleasing  one,  for 

*  *  the  land  in  the  entire  region  was  different  from  any 
we  had  seen.  There  were  but  few  elevations,  and,  instead, 
meadows  and  fens  abounded.  Dikes  and  ditches  were  fre- 
quent. Windmills,  as  in  Holland,  were  common,  and  in  many 
respects  we  were  riding  over  veritable  Lynn  Marshes,  as  we 
had  done  a  thousand  times,  at  home. 

At  length,  arriving  here,  we  anticipated  seeing  the  cathe- 
dral, but  alas  for  human  endeavors  and  calculations  !  this  was  to 
be  the  place  of  our  entire  journey  mistake.  Wells  proper,  that 
of  cathedral  renown,  was  hundreds  of  miles  away.  This  is  a 
little,  east-side-of- England  seaport  town  of  3,760  inhabitants. 
Many  of  the  houses  are  one-story,  stone,  plastered,  and  white- 
washed. We  felt  in  one  quarter  very  at-homeish,  for  the  street 
alongshore  was  much  like  one  at  Gloucester  or  Rockport,  or  in 
Joppa  at  Newburyport,  Mass.  There  was  an  intense  odor  of  fish, 
and  the  fishermen  themselves  were  Joppa-fishermen-like,  and 
not  simply  sailors.  Heavy  clothing  was  theirs,  and  of  a  cut  and 
style  not  like  Boston  or  Paris.  There  boots  were  innocent  of  a 
waste  of  blacking,  souwesters  for  hats,  and  Guernsey  frocks. 
We  did  n't  have  very  hard  work  to  be  reconciled,  and  "  making 
the  best  of  it "  was  n't  enough  in  the  nature  of  a  sacrifice  to 
transform  it  into  a  virtue.  We  were  seeing  a  fine  old  English 
seaboard  town,  and  now  we  have  an  unexpected  source  of 
thought  to  draw  from.     We  have  it  sure,  and  ever  shall. 

The  mistaken  detour  was  a  blessing  in  disguise,  a  cloud  with 
a  silver  lining.  Next  a.  m.,  after  a  fine  night's  rest  in  that  invig- 
orating atmosphere,  at  7  o'clock  took  train,  and  rode  along  land- 
scapes not  much  like  the  other  before  passed  over,  for  we  were 
soon  out  into  higher  land,  with  some  fields,  and  amid  many  fine 
gardens,  groves,  and  woods,  —  in  fact,  in  a  quite  New-England- 
appearing  territory;  and  at  9  a.m.,  on  this  June  11,  arrived  at 


NORWICH.  283 


NORWICH. 


No  doubt  this  time  in  the  minds  of  either  of  us  whether  or 
not  this  was  the  Norwich,  for  in  grand  relief,  off  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  was  the  cathedral,  with  its  centre  tower  and  spire,  315  feet 
high,  which  is  one  of  the  five  spired- cathedrals  of  England.  The 
city  is  well  situated  on  the  River  Wensum,  and  has  a  population 
of  80,390,  and  is  the  capital  of  the  county  of  Norfolk.  It  is  a 
very  ancient  place,  for  there  are  good  evidences  that  it  was 
founded  a.  d.  446,  or  more  than  1400  years  ago.  On  the 
departure  of  the  Romans,  who  settled  it,  it  was  taken  by  the 
Saxons,  and  in  575  it  had  improved  and  become  the  capital  of 
Anglia.  In  1002  it  was  attacked  by  a  Danish  fleet  under  com- 
mand of  Sweyn  their  king,  and  was  captured  and  burnt  to  ashes. 
In  1328  the  foundation  of  its  permanent  prosperity  was  laid  by 
Edward  III.,  who  made  it  the  staple  town  of  Suffolk  and  Nor- 
folk ;  and,  conferring  important  privileges  thereby,  induced  large 
numbers  of  Flemings  to  settle  in  it.  A  larger  number  yet  arrived 
during  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  and  so  great  was  the  indus- 
try and  ingenuity  of  the  people,  that  their  manufactures  soon 
became  famed  throughout  the  world.  The  city  has  given  birth 
to  many  distinguished  men.  Among  these  may  be  named  the 
following  :  Matthew  Parker,  a  distinguished  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, and  so,  Primate  of  all  England.  He  was  the  second 
Protestant  Bishop  of  Canterbury,  and  died  at  London,  May  1 7, 
1575.  A  more  extended  notice  of  him  will  be  given  in  the 
description  of  the  cathedral  of  Canterbury. 

Next  is  Dr.  Samuel  Clark,  born  Oct.  11,  1675,  and  died 
May  1  7,  1 729.  He  graduated  at  Cambridge,  and  was  of  a  very 
philosophical  turn  of  mind.  Having  mastered  the  system  of 
Philosophy  of  Descartes  and  Newton  in  his  2  2d  year,  he  published 
a  work  on  physics,  which  became  popular  and  a  text-book  in 
the  university.  He  next  turned  his  attention  to  theology,  and 
became  chaplain  to  Dr.  More,  Bishop  of  Norwich.  In  1706  he 
translated  into  English  "  Newton's  Optics,"  which  so  pleased 
the  great  mathematician  that  he  presented  him  with  ,£500,  and 
Queen  Anne  made  him  one  of  her  chaplains  and  rector  of  St. 
James  Westminster,  and  tin-,  was  when  he  was  less  than  51  years 
old.  He  was  a  very  scholarly  and  voluminous  writer, and  all  his 
works  are  marked  by  erudition  and  are  on  important  themes. 
H'-   was   a    philosopher,  and    a   Scientific    thinker,  as   well    as   an 

historical,  or  theological  one;  and  on  tin-  death  of  sir  [saai 


284  ENGLAND. 

Newton,  he  was  offered  the  place  of  Master  of  the  Mint,  bnt 
strongly  attached  to  his  profession  as  a  Christian  teacher,  he 
declined  the  office,  as  being  unsuitable  to  his  ecclesiastical  char- 
acter. His  death  occurred  at  the  age  of  fifty-three,  and  few 
have  died  more  worthily  or  universally  lamented. 

line  also  was  born,  May  21,  1780,  Elizabeth  Fry,  the  cele- 
brated Quakeress  and  philanthropist,  who  was,  in  1  798,  converted 
to  pure  Quakerism  through  the  instrumentality  of  William  Savary, 
the  American  Quaker,  then  on  a  visit  to  England.  She  died  at 
Ramsgate,  Oct.  12,  1845,  greatly  lamented  the  Christian  World 
over. 

Here  also  was  born,  Nov.  1 2,  1769,  Mrs.  Amelia  Opie,  the  well 
known  poetess  and  prose  writer,  who  died  here  Dec.  2,  1853. 

And  here  was  born,  June  12,  1S02,  that  remarkable  writer, 
Harriet  Martineau ;  and,  in  1805,  her  hardly  less  celebrated 
brother  Rev.  James  Martineau,  the  distinguished  Unitarian 
divine  ;  and  thus  we  find  the  list  of  notables  increasing  to  a 
degree  that  demands  a  refrain  of  enumeration  even.  The  old 
city  is  hardly  less  celebrated  as  having  been  the  seat  of  very 
marked  and  interesting  historical  events. 

In  1 381  Bishop  Spencer  led  an  army,  and  successfully  re- 
pulsed an  attack  made  on  it  by  80,000  insurgents,  led  by 
Sitester,  a  dyer,  in  the  Wat  Tyler  Rebellion.  Muscular  Chris- 
tianity was  at  a  premium,  sure,  in  those  days,  and  a  political 
sermon  was  then  looked  upon  as  a  mild  offence.  In  1531 
Bilney  and  Lews  and  Ket  were  burned  at  the  stake  for  their 
religious  opinions.  In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  4,000  Flemings 
fled  from  the  cruelties  of  the  Duke  of  Alva,  and  established  in 
this  place  the  manufacture  of  bombazines,  which  work  is  carried 
on  to  the  present  day.  In  1695  a  mint  was  established  here.  In 
the  years  1407-1483  was  built,  of  curiously  arranged  cobble,  or 
round  flintstones,  the  present  guildhall,  with  panels  in  the  front, 
ornamented  with  armorial  shields  of  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.  In 
one  of  the  rooms  is  the  sword  of  Admiral  Winthuysen,  taken  at 
the  battle  of  St.  Vincent,  Feb.  14,  1797.  In  Pottergate  Street 
is  the  old  Bridewell,  built  in  1380,  of  flintstone,  and  once  the 
home  of  Appleyard,  the  first  mayor  of  Norwich. 

A  recital  of  interesting  facts  and  description  of  relics  could  be 
made  which  alone  would  require  chapters  of  the  length  we  are 
using.  The  temptation  is  very  great,  when  we  are  saying  any- 
thing of  these  grand  old  historic  and  antique  centres,  to  enlarge, 
and  give  a  greater  amount  of  those  interesting  old  facts ;  but  a 
moment's  reflection  calls  attention  to  the  impropriety  of  making 


NORWICH.  285 

an  encyclopaedia,  and  we  forbear,  and  turn  to  the  more  modern 
ideas. 

The  manufactures  of  the  place  are  at  the  present  time,  as  they 
always  have  been,  very  varied  ;  and  prominent  among  them  is 
that  of  woollen  goods,  which  are  of  a  great  and  ancient  celeb- 
rity, for  the  Flemings  obtained  long  wool,  spun  in  the  village  of 
Worsted,  nine  miles  away,  and  of  this  made  that  peculiar  cloth. 
This  kind  of  yarn  thus  took  the  name  of  worsted,  and  is  so 
known  to  this  day.  It  is  said  that  there  are  1400  looms  working 
in  this  city  and  the  neighborhood.  The  city  has  a  business-like 
appearance,  and  a  commanding  look  in  its  main  thoroughfares. 
It  is  well  built  of  brick  and  stone,  and  everywhere,  at  intervals, 
there  are  the  evidences  of  age,  in  the  old  stone  churches,  of 
which  there  are  more  than  forty  in  the  city,  —  some  of  them  very 
venerable,  and  built  of  split  cobble-flintstone,  and  many  of  them 
of  great  antiquity. 

The  city  has  a  noble  feudal  relic  in  the  shape  of  a  castle 
founded  by  Uffa  in  575.  It  was  extended  and  improved  by 
Anna  in  642,  and  again  in  872  by  Alfred  the  Great,  or  more 
than  1,000  years  ago  ;  and  now  still  stands,  grand  and  imposing, 
at  the  centre  of  the  city,  on  a  quite  lofty  eminence  with  precipi- 
tous sides,  and  is  surrounded  by  its  massive  wall  and  donjon 
tower,  but  has  been  in  modern  times  altered  on  the  interior,  to 
fit  it  for  its  present  use  as  a  jail.  Another  part  is  remodelled  for 
use  as  the  shire  hall.  The  bishop's  palace  and  the  deanery  are 
imposing  structures,  old  and  interesting,  and  approached,  as  the 
cathedral  itself  is,  through  what  is  called  the  Eppingham  Gate, 
a  remarkable  structure  consisting  of  a  lofty  pointed  arch,  flanked 
with  semi-octagonal  buttresses,  and  enriched  with  columns, 
mouldings,  and  38  male  and  female  statues  in  canopied  niches. 
The  market-place  is  large,  and  ranks  as  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
world.  The  city  was  formerly  surrounded  by  walls ;  fragments 
of  them  still  remain,  but  most  have  been  removed  and  the  ma- 
terial used  for  more  useful  purposes.  It  was  provided  with 
numerous  watch-towers,  and  was  entered  by  12  gates. 

Owing  to  the  quantity  of  ground  used,  just  out  of  the  centre 
of  the  city,  for  gardens  and  orchards,  as  the  place  is  approached 
by  rail  it  presents  a  very  rural  appearance  ;  and  being  built 
mostly  on  a  hillside,  and  quite  steep  in  parts,  it  strongly  resem- 
bles its  namesake  in  our  Connecticut,  and  it  covers  a  much 
larger  spa<  e,  or  territory,  than  any  other  English  pla<  e  of  a  like 
population.  Not  a  few  of  the  streets  are  narrow  and  winding, 
and  many  of  the  houses  that  line  such  are  antique  with  over- 


286  ENGLAND. 

hanging  stories,  and  presenting  long  rows  of  gables ;  they  are, 
however,  generally  of  brick,  and  more  interesting  for  their  an- 
tiquity than  for  any  merits  of  architecture. 

Great  improvements  have  been  made  in  the  suburbs,  and 
even  in  the  city  proper;  new  streets  have  been  opened,  old 
ones  widened,  and  many  modern  and  tasteful  buildings  erected. 
Hospitals  and  charity  schools  and  institutions  abound.  The 
literary  and  scientific  institutions  have  a  library  of  18,000 
volumes,  and  the  mechanics'  and  young  men's  institutes  have 
11,000.  There  are  numerous  public  parks  or  gardens,  bowling- 
greens,  and  great  facilities  for  the  amusement  and  pleasure  of  its 
inhabitants. 

A  urand  and  venerable  old  place  is  this  of  Norwich,  —  full  of 
inducements  for  a  visit,  or  even  a  permanent  stay.  It  should 
have  been  named  that  the  suburbans,  and  those  living  on  the 
outskirts,  give  much  attention  to  farming,  and  that  Norwich  is 
in  some  respects  like  our  Brighton,  for  it  has  weekly  market- 
days  for  the  sale  of  cattle,  and  has  the  largest  market  in  the 
kingdom,  with  the  single  exception  of  those  near  London.  The 
stores,  many  in  number,  and  a  large  portion  of  them  of  high 
grade,  present  for  sale  every  conceivable  article,  and  argue  of 
a  high  civilization. 

"The  cathedral, — what  of  that?"  says  the  reader.  Well,  it  is 
by  no  means  forgotten,  and  we  next  tell  of  that.  It  is  situated 
on  low  and  level  land,  and  is  from  a  distance  looked  down  upon, 
or  over  to,  rather  than  up  to,  as  is  the  case  at  Durham,  Lincoln, 
and  in  fact  in  many  other  places.  It  is  built  of  a  dark-gray 
sandstone,  and  has  a  rather  sombre  look,  and  is  located  in  the 
midst  of  grounds,  about  in  which  are  walls  and  ruins  of  the  old 
monastery,  and  the  original  garden  walls  yet  remain ;  so  that 
while  the  cathedral  is  not  out  among  buildings  of  ordinary  char- 
acter, but  has  ample  grounds  and  shrubbery  around  it,  yet  it  has 
no  grand  close,  or  park,  as  at  Salisbury,  Hereford,  and  many 
others  ;  but  all  is  complete  within  these  precincts,  and  charming 
in  the  extreme.  A  charming  quiet  pervades  these  ancient-ap- 
pearing and  large  premises,  and  all  is  befitting  the  venerable 
structure. 

Like  all  cathedrals,  this  boasts  of  a  good  antiquity.  The  See 
was  removed  from  Thetford  to  Norwich  in  1096.  The  first 
establishment  consisted  of  sixty  monks  ;  they  took  possession  of 
the  premises  in  1106,  and  Bishop  Herbert  laid  the  cathedral 
foundation  in  11 15.  The  work  advanced,  so  that  on  Advent 
Sunday,  1 278,  —  or  163  years  after  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone, 


NORWICH.  287 

* 

—  it  was  consecrated  by  Bishop  Middleton,  in  presence  of  King 
Edward  I.  and  Queen  Eleanor.  In  1272  the  tower  was  badly 
injured  by  lightning  ;  and  this  was  but  the  precursor  of  a  greater 
evil,  for  on  the  18th  of  September  of  that  year  a  riot  occurred 
among  the  populace,  and  they  turned  their  attention  to  the  edi- 
fice. Most  of  the  court  buildings  were  destroyed,  the  cathedral 
itself  much  injured,  several  of  the  sub-deacons  and  lay-servants 
killed  in  the  cloisters,  the  treasury  ransacked,  and  all  the  monks 
but  two  driven  away.  In  1289  Bishop  Walpole  began  a  spire  of 
wood,  covered  with  lead,  completed  in  1295,  which  remained 
some  years,  when  it  was  blown  down,  and  much  injury  was  done 
to  the  roofs.  Bishop  Percy  erected  the  present  stone  spire  in 
the  years  1 364-1369,  so  that  as  we  now  see  it,  it  is  536  years 
old. 

The  building  is  416  feet  long,  transepts,  185  feet  wide;  and 
the  tower,  which  is  45^-  feet  square,  is  140  feet  high,  with  a 
stone  spire,  169^  feet  above  this,  or  an  aggregate  309^-,  ex- 
clusive of  iron-work,  above  it.  The  cloisters  are  150  feet 
square,  and  the  open  close  about  them  is  one  of  the  finest  in 
England.  The  interior  is  very  solid  in  appearance,  yet  as  well 
decorated  as  any  in  the  kingdom.  Indescribable  is  the  solem- 
nity of  grand  effect.  How  complete  all  is  ;  and  how  of  eternity 
itself  do  the  great  Norman  columns  speak  !  Had  we  not  already 
employed  so  much  eulogy  in  praise  of  other  cathedrals,  we  now 
could  use  adjectives  to  advantage  ;  but  language  has  never  yet 
adequately  described  a  cathedral's  interior.  There  is  more  to 
the  thing  than  matters  of  curiosity  and  a  tame  entertainment. 
We  first  are  interested,  next  admire  ;  soon  a  feeling  of  awe  and 
solemnity  is  inspired,  and  the  strong  sensations  tone  down,  and 
one  feels  to  be  in  the  presence  of  men  of  other  generations. 
Bishops  of  distinguished  renown  have  here  held  sway  more  than 
half  a  thousand  years  ago.  Here  have  kings  and  queens  wor- 
shipped. These  arches  through  the  centuries  have  echoed  back 
a  million  songs  and  psalms  and  prayers  ;  about,  amid  this  lofty 
vaulting,  have  the  odors  and  smoke  of  Roman  Catholic  incense 
wandered  on  ;  and  here  at  the  foot  of  these  ponderous  columns, 
and  at  these  shrines,  have  thousands,  yea  millions,  of  pious  de- 
votees tried  to  do  honor  to  the  King  of  kings  and  the  Lord  of 
lords ;  and  here  also  hy-and-by,  in  aid  of  reformation,  was  ruth- 
less work  done,  and  images  of  saints  and  grand  sculptures,  made 
by  monks  and  pious  ones,  were  hurled  from  their  quiet  resting- 
places,  to  be  broken  and  to  be  cast  Out,  after  centuries  of  sen  \<  e, 

—  to  be  as  common  things,  ground  to   powder  and  trodden 


288  ENGLAND. 

under  foot  of  men.  The  good  Scripture  statement  is  that  there  is 
joy  among  the  redeemed  over  repenting  mortals.  If  joy,  then 
knowledge  and  observation  of  what  mortals  do.  Is  it  too  much 
to  think  that,  with  extended  vision  and  enlightened  conditions, 
seeing  truth  clearly,  and  rid  of  its  dress  and  habiliments  of  super- 
stition and  enslaving  penance  and  wordy  ritual,  that  even  the 
seeming  desecration,  speaking  of  advancing  conditions  and  bet- 
ter ones  for  after  worshippers,  —  that  listening  to  this,  they  too 
rejoiced  in  the  work,  and  that  always  after  they  have  been  inter- 
ested here  at  these  great  shrines,  and  are  present  and  commu- 
ning? Is  there  not  now,  as  of  old,  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses? 
When  one  walks  through  the  vast  cathedral  nave,  and  the  sound 
of  his  feet  makes  echoes  that  pass  from  one  to  another  of  their 
lofty  arches,  is  it  too  much  to  think  that  these  are  not  all  the 
sounds  awakened  or  elements  set  in  motion?  "  Things  are  not 
what  they  seem,"  for  the  poet  has  well  said  :  — 

As  the  temple  waxes, 
The  inward  service  of  the  mind  and  soul 
Grows  wide  withal. 

This  place  so  sacred,  and  now  in  grand  repose,  has  been 
desecrated  to  an  incredible  degree.  The  world's  people  and 
the  monks  have  at  times  come  to  blows.  In  recounting  the 
desecrations  which  took  place  during  one  of  the  civil  wars,  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  says,  that  "  more  than  one  hundred  monumen- 
tal brasses  were  taken  from  the  mural  slabs  in  this  cathedral,  and 
were  carried  away  and  destroyed."     Bishop  Hall  says :  — 

The  rebel  musketeers  committed  abominable  excesses  in  this 
cathedral  church,  which  they  converted  into  an  ale-house.  They 
sallied  out  habited  in  the  surplices  and  vestments,  sounding  on  the 
organ  pipes,  and  grossly  parodying  the  litany,  and  burned  the  ser- 
vice-books, six  copies,  and  records  in  the  market-place. 

No  cathedral  makes  a  greater  show  of  monuments,  in  wider 
variety  of  design,  or  commemorative  of  more  influential  and 
distinguished  men  ;  and  first  may  be  named  the  elegant  memo- 
rial window  at  the  west  end  of  the  nave,  to  the  memory  of 
Bishop  Edward  Stanley,  who  was  father  of  the  celebrated  and 
now  worthily  lamented  Dean  of  Westminster  at  London.  The 
bishop  was  born  in  1779,  and  died  at  Norwich  in  1849,  having 
been  made  bishop  of  this  cathedral  in  1837.  In  the  presbytery 
is  a  table-tomb  to  the  memory  of  Sir  W.  Boleyn,  who  died  in 
1505.     He  was  the  great-grandfather  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 


ELY.  289 

Near  by  is  a  wall  tablet  commemorating  Bishop  George  Home, 
who  died  Jan.  17,.  1792.  He  was  distinguished  as  a  preacher, 
and  became  President  of  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  in  1768, 
Chaplain  to  the  King  in  1771,  Dean  of  Canterbury  in  1781,  and 
Bishop  of  Norwich,  1790.  He  was  a  very  voluminous  writer; 
his  chief  work  is  his  "  Commentary  on  the  Psalms,"  on  which 
he  labored  for  twenty  years,  and  published  it  in  1776.  As  one 
lingers  among  these  remains  he  is  forcibly  struck  with  the  an- 
tiquity of  the  monuments,  and  finds  himself  counting  their  age 
by  hundreds  of  years  ;  and  among  them  are  the  following  bish- 
ops with  the  year  of  their  death.  They  will  be  given  in  the 
order  in  which  they  are  met  with,  not  regarding  priority  of 
dates:  Bishop  Nix,  1536;  Parkhurst,  1575;  Dean  Gardner, 
1589  ;  Bishop  Herbert,  1682  ;  Goldwell,  1499  ;  Wakering,  1425  ; 
Overell,  1619;  Bathurst,  1837;  Prior  N.  de  Brampton,  1268; 
Prior  Bonoun,  1480;  Reynolds,  1676;  R.  Pulvertoft,  1494; 
and  so  might  the  list  be  continued.  Here  are  bishops,  deans, 
curates,  priors,  sir-knights-templars,  members  of  parliament ; 
and  distinguished  women  also,  for  not  unfrequently  appears  the 
title  of  Dame,  as  Dame  Calthorp,  who  died  in  1582.  As  we 
think  of  these  for  whom  monumental  stones  have  been  raised, 
and  the  hundreds  in  the  old  grounds,  who  are  "  unknelled,  un- 
coffined,  and  unknown  ;  "  of  monk,  nun,  abbot,  and  abbess ; 
Catholic  and  Protestant ;  of  them  of  ancient  dispensation,  as 
well  as  of  them  of  the  new ;  the  whole  a  great  company,  more 
in  the  aggregate  than  all  they  who  in  the  city  entire  are  yet 
in  the  flesh,  —  as  we  loiter  here  and  think  of  these  things,  we 
see  the  force  of  the  remark,  "  One  generation  cometh  and  an- 
other goeth,  but  the  earth  abideth  forever."  We  have  said, 
after  all,  comparatively  nothing  concerning  this  place  of  so 
much  interest  and  renown,  but  time  with  us  moves  as  it  did  with 
those  who  a  thousand  years  ago  labored  and  died  here.  The 
great  bell  in  the  tower  solemnly  counts  off  the  hour  of  3  o'clock, 
and  we  wend  our  way  from  these  sacred  precincts,  and  drop  the 
curtain,  but  not  without  the  promise  that  whenever  again  at  Lon- 
don, we  will  come  over  to  Norwich  ;  and  now  at  3.30  of  the 
same  Tuesday,  we  take  cars  for  the  next  cathedral  town,  which 
is  famous  old 

ELY. 

We  are  at  the  seat  of  another  of  the  famed  cathedrals,  having 
arrived  in  just  an  hour's  ride  from  Norwich  ;  so  on  this  remark- 
ably fine  day  as  it  is  proving  to  be,  —  at  home  111  Boston,  Amer- 

[9 


290  ENGLAND. 

ica,  we  should  call  it  a  first-class  middle-of-May  one,  —  valises 
deposited  at  the  railroad  station,  our  stay  not  to  be  long,  we 
are  soon  walking  about  the  city.  This  is  a  small  rural  place, 
situated  on  the  River  Ouse,  and  with  a  population  of  8,000.  It 
is  exceedingly  rural  in  aspect,  and  has  but  little  look  of  business 
or  manufactures.  Half  embowered  with  trees,  the  octagonal 
tower  of  the  cathedral  is  looming  up  in  the  distance,  a  half-mile 
away.  The  place  has  one  principal  street,  and  but  few  others 
of  more  than  ordinary  importance,  and  while  clean  to  a  fault,  it 
has  many  old  buildings,  and  little  that  is  new ;  and,  as  before 
intimated,  gardens  and  lawns  are  common,  and  the  entire  place 
has  a  charmingly  rural  character.  The  churches  of  St.  Mary 
and  of  Holy  Trinity  are  remarkable  for  their  age  and  an  ancient 
splendor.  There  was  a  convent  founded  here  about  673,  by 
Etheldreda,  wife  of  Kgfrid,  King  of  Northumberland,  and  she 
was  its  first  abbess.  It  was  destroyed  by  the  Danes  in  870,  and 
one  hundred  years  later  was  rebuilt  by  Ethelwold,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  who  placed  in  it  monks  instead  of  nuns.  The  city 
is  on  an  island,  and  is  said  to  have  received  its  name  from  the 
great  quantity  of  eels  that  used  to  be  taken  here.  It  has  some 
manufactures  of  earthen-ware,  and  tobacco-pipes,  and  there  are 
also  flax  and  hemp-seed  oil-mills,  and  lime-kilns  ;  but  the  prin- 
cipal source  of  income  for  the  laboring  people  is  agriculture, 
and  it  has  very  extensive  gardens  for  the  cultivation  of  market 
vegetables,  the  produce  of  which  is  mainly  sent  to  Cambridge, 
sixteen  miles  away,  for  use  at  the  colleges. 

The  monastery  and  former  abbey  being  established  here,  made 
it  at  an  early  day  one  of  the  celebrated  religious  centres  of  Eng- 
land ;  and,  as  often  the  case,  the  church  of  the  institution  was 
important,  and  in  time  became  a  cathedral.  The  See  was  estab- 
lished in  1 107.  In  1066  Thurston  was  abbot,  and  he  defended 
the  Isle  of  Ely  seven  years  against  William  the  Conqueror.  In 
108 1  Simeon,  a  prior  of  Winchester,  was  abbot,  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  present  cathedral. 

In  1 107,  as  before  stated,  the  See  was  established,  and  Hervey, 
who  had  been  Bishop  of  Bangor,  —  and,  it  is  said  for  good  rea- 
sons, had  been  driven  away,  —  was  elected  Abbot  of  Ely ;  that 
is,  he  was  head  of  the  monastery.  He  made  an  effort  to  have 
this  a  seat  of  the  bishop,  and,  succeeding,  was  himself  made  its 
first  bishop.  Simeon,  who  laid  the  cathedral  foundation,  lived 
only  long  enough  to  finish  the  choir  and  one  transept,  and  of 
his  work  this  transept  only  now  remains. 

The  nave,  the  great  western  tower  as  high  as  the  first  battle- 


ELY.  291 

ments,  and  the  south  transept  were  finished,  the  former  in  1 1 74^ 
and  the  latter  in  1189.  The  great  western  portico  was  begun  in 
1200,  and  finished  in  12 15.  In  1552  extensions  were  made, 
and  in  1322  the  octagonal  lantern  of  the  tower  was  begun,  and 
it  was  finished  in  1328.  A  spire  of  wood  was  built  on  this  in 
1342,  which  was  afterwards  removed.  Various  repairs  and  res- 
torations have  been  from  then  till  now  going  on,  and  we  have  it 
at  present  in  fine  condition  of  repair.  It  is  built  of  a  grayish,  or1 
dark  soapstone-colored  stone,  resembling  the  cathedral  at  Salis- 
bury ;  and  on  the  stone  is  a  large  lot  of  lichens,  —  a  species  of 
fungus  or  moss,  such  as  is  often  seen  on  our  common  stones  of 
field  walls,  though  so  very  thin  and  close  to  the  stone  as  at  times 
to  appear  simply  like  a  stain  on  the  material.  The  building  is 
517  feet  long,  179  feet  wide  at  the  transepts,  and  the  nave  and 
aisles  are  respectively  78  feet  wide  and  70  feet  high. 

A  marked  and  important  feature  of  this  cathedral  is  the  great 
west  tower,  on  the  four  corners  of  which  are  large  octagonal 
buttress  piers,  ending  in  very  lofty  turrets,  crowned  with  battle- 
ments ;  and  inside  of  these,  but  somewhat  lower,  is  an  octagonal 
lantern  section,  also  crowned  with  an  embattled  parapet.  The 
tower  is  very  elaborate  and  elegant  in  its  finish  and  proportions, 
and  is  in  all  306  feet  high.  Another  peculiarity  of  the  cathedral 
is  that  at  the  intersection  of  the  nave,  transepts,  and  choir, 
are  four  subordinate  sides  in  which  are  elegant  windows,  and  the 
whole  great  octagon,  ending  at  the  outside  lines  with  groined 
work  ;  and  the  centre  part  is  a  lantern  which  is  open  well  up  into 
the  great  tower  over  it. 

The  interior  of  this  cathedral  is  elegant  and  wonderfully  elab- 
orate, and  is  excelled  by  no  cathedral  in  the  kingdom.  Here, 
if  anywhere,  may  it  be  said  that  rich  Gothic  architecture  is 
"  frozen  music."  Speak  as  favorably  as  one  will  of  other  cathe- 
drals, they  may  yet  be  lavish  in  praise  of  Ely ;  and  it  may  be 
added  that  the  painted  glass  windows  are  incredibly  fine  and  in 
keeping  with  the  grand  building  they  illuminate.  Of  one  thing 
we  repeatedly  speak,  and  it  is  that  we  are  glad  that  we  did  not 
see  the  interior  of  a  cathedral  like  this  first ;  else  many  of  the 
others  would  have  appeared  tame  and  weak.  All,  however, 
have  their  own  peculiar  glories,  and,  as  productions  of  art,  do 
their  own  respective  work. 

There  are  but  few  monuments  of  note  in  the  cathedral.  There 
were  once,  however,  many  of  bishops,  priors,  and  deans,  but  all 
have  been  destroyed  or  removed  but  two;  they  are  of  Bishop 
Gray  and  of  Lewis  de   Luxemburg,  who  was  made  bishop   in 


292  ENGLAND. 

1438,  and  who  held  the  bishopric  by  special  dispensation  of  the 
Pope,  being  at  the  same  time  Archbishop  of  Rouen,  France,  and 
also  a  cardinal. 

Among  the  eminent  men  who  have  been  bishops  of  this  cathe- 
dral is  Matthew  Wren,  who  was  elected  bishop  in  1638.  He  was 
uncle  of  the  distinguished  architect  of  St.  Paul's  at  London,  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  and  he  held  the  following  offices  at  different 
periods  :  Master  of  St.  Peter's  College,  Cambridge ;  Dean  of 
Windsor ;  and  Bishop  of  Hereford,  and  also  of  Norwich.  He 
was  a  great  sufferer  during  the  Usurpation  and  the  Rebellion, 
but  outlived  both,  and  before  his  death  saw  peace  and  tranquil- 
ity restored.  In  looking  over  the  list  of  Ely's  bishops,  one  is 
astonished  to  observe  how  eminent  they  must  have  been,  if  we 
may  judge  from  their  having  previously  been  bishops  in  other 
cathedrals.  Simon  Langham,  elected  here  in  1332,  was  a  car- 
dinal, and,  after  being  here,  was  bishop  at  Canterbury.  Thomas 
de  Armdel,  of  1374,  was  translated  to  York,  and  then  to  Can- 
terbury. John  Morton,  of  1478,  was  afterwards  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  Thomas  Goodrich,  of  1534,  was  once  Bishop  of 
Westminster,  and  also  of  Norwich.  Simon  Patrick,  of  1691, 
was  at  Chichester  as  bishop,  and  was  dean  at  Pcterboro'. 
Remarkable  confidence  seems  to  have  been  reposed  in  the 
bishops  of  Ely  for  uprightness  and  integrity,  and  a  business 
talent  as  well ;  for  as  many  as  twelve  of  them  were  chancellors 
of  England,  and  four  of  them  founded  colleges  or  were  masters 
at  Cambridge. 

As  we  try  to  select  a  few  items  of  especial  interest  from  the 
vast  amount  before  us,  the  task  is  bewildering,  and  when  a 
final  work  has  been  done,  it  is  so  meagre  and  paltry  as  to  cause 
uncomfortable  thoughts,  and  put  to  flight  all  anticipations  of  even 
a  reasonable  satisfaction. 

These  vast  buildings,  so  elegant  in  decoration,  so  aged,  so 
satisfying  to  the  beholder,  as  remarkable  works  of  skill  in  dec- 
orative and  constructive  points  of  view,  are  great  museums  and 
libraries  of  themselves  ;  and  to  the  reflective  observer  there  are 
"  sermons  in  stones."  When  here  and  at  like  places,  we  are 
amid  the  results  of  the  anticipations  and  prayers  and  labors  of 
centuries.  We  go  back  to  the  day  when  a  lot  of  mortals,  full 
of  a  pious  aspiration  for  the  good  and  the  true,  —  yet  supersti- 
tious, —  were  travelling  over  these  spots  in  quest  of  a  best  place 
for  study  and  repose  ;  and  they  at  last  here  rested,  and  founded 
an  abbey  or  monastery,  a  priory  it  may  be,  or  a  simple  nunnery. 
By-and-by  the  foundation  of  a  great  church  was  to  be  laid,  but 


ELY.  293 

with  no  hope  or  expectation  of  ever  seeing  those  foundation 
walls  of  an  entire  cathedral  reach  even  the  earth's  surface  :  com- 
prehending the  scheme,  they  plied  themselves  to  the  task,  and 
labored  and  died  ;  others  came,  the  walls  arose,  and  centuries 
passed.  Tower,  battlement,  and  roof  climbed  heavenward,  and 
then  came  consecration  and  worship,  but  never  rest.  Death  of 
prelate,  then  monuments  were  in  order ;  repairs  of  cathedral ; 
civil  wars,  rebellions,  destruction  of  the  art-work  of  centuries ; 
overturnings  of  doctrines,  disputes,  and  surrender  of  cathedral, 
and  all  its  sacred  belongings  come ;  new  doctrines  are  inaugu- 
rated, and  become  the  law  of  the  land.  Generations  after  gen- 
erations are  born  and  die.  The  cathedral  grows  old,  aged  ;  the 
grounds  only  remain  as  they  were  ;  and  not  as  they  were,  for  the 
soil  is  raised  by  the  dust  of  the  thousands  that  are  buried  and 
moulder  in  it,  and  so,  in  transfigured  glory,  even  the  old  trees 
that  throw  their  grateful  shadows  have  in  their  fibre  earth  that 
was  once  the  royal  bone  and  flesh  and  sinew  of  bishop,  cardinal, 
or  king.  At  places  in  cathedral  premises  are  charnel  houses,  or 
rooms  where  are  deposited  bones  and  remains  exhumed,  or  taken 
from  tombs,  and  these  are  thrown  into  promiscuous  heaps  to 
moulder  on  a  little  longer,  and,  having  become  resolved  back  to 
mother  earth,  to  be  quietly  shovelled  out  as  food  for  grass  and 
flowers  on  the  great  lawns.  These  are  the  seen,  the  temporal ; 
but  the  unseen,  the  eternal,  is  no  less  fact,  nor  less  real,  for  the 
influence  these  men  exerted  lives  and  acts.  The  mortal  is 
greater  than  any  material  thing  he  builds.  That  decays,  and  as 
an  organized  thing  ceases  to  be,  but  the  influence  of  thought 
dies  never.  We  know  not  into  whose  little  mass  of  earth,  whose 
narrow  house,  the  rootlets  of  the  tree  whose  branches  shade  us 
have  gone,  and  taken  up  their  infinitessimal  particles  of  human 
earth,  and  carried  it  on  to  make  leaf  and  blossom,  or  fibre  of 
wood  or  bark.  We  know  it  has  been  done,  and  is  yet  doing, 
and  has  been  so  for  centuries  ;  for,  as  Shakespeare  has  it :  — 

Imperious  Caesar,  dead  and  turned  to  clay, 
Might  stop  a  hole  to  keep  the  wind  away; 
(  Mi  that  the  earth,  which  kept  the  world  in  awe, 
Should  patch  a  wall  to  expel  the  winter's  flaw  ! 

Not  seen  as  fact,  with  material  eyes,  but  known  beyond  per- 
adventure  by  the  less  material  thought;  so  it  is  of  the  deeds 
done,  —  living  and  acting,  when  the  authors  are  dead,  as  the 
world  judges  and  de<  lares.  Bui  are  not  the  great  arch  and  pil- 
lar of  nave  influential  now?  ts  nol  the  eleganl  decoration  of 
cut  stone  refining  to  those  of  this  day?  Does  not  the  largeness 
even  of  the  cathedral  inspire  us  now  to  do  large  things?     Does 


294  ENGLAND. 

not  the  patience  of  monk,  of  old  bishop,  of  the  master  mind  of 
those  back  ages,  —  content  to  but  lay  a  foundation  and  then 
resignedly  die,  —  does  not  that  beget  the  like,  even  in  this 
hurrying  nineteenth-century  time?  And  the  determination  of 
Cromwell  or  of  Henry  VIII.,  even  though  destructionists,  — 
iconoclasts  not  only  of  stone,  but  unwittingly  of  superstitions 
and  religious  tyranny,  —  though  in  a  sense  tyrants  themselves, 
does  not  their  work  make  it  comfortable  for  free  conscientious 
worship  now?  Does  not  the  work  of  such  ones  and  their  sus- 
taining bishops,  —  of  martyrs,  by  their  faithfulness  and  sacrifices 
even  of  life  itself,  —  do  not  these  make  our  good  conditions 
possible,  which  but  for  them  would  never  have  been  ?  Cathe- 
dral is  museum  and  library  ;  it  is  shrine,  —  inspiring  thought  and 
evolving  new  good,  and  in  no  way  inferior  to  picture-gallery  or 
depository  of  mechanical  production  or  of  curious  art. 

A  long  digression  this,  and  but  for  the  license  we  at  the  start 
reserved,  apology  would  be  due.  We  greatly  enjoyed  Ely  and 
all  things  in  it.  A  fine  long  walk  came  next,  from  the  cathedral 
off  half  a  mile  into  a  back  road,  where,  amid  the  good  suburban 
shade  of  overhanging  garden  trees,  and  enveloped  in  the  nice 
odor  of  flowers,  we  took  our  last  view  of  the  old  structure,  and 
turned  our  feet  to  the  station.  Dreamish  was  the  whole  thing. 
A  few  hours  ago  we  were  not  in  sight  of  the  famed  place,  where 
has  crystallized  the  greatness  engendered  by  centuries.  A  choice 
bit  of  earth,  covered  over  and  enveloped  in  extraordinary  his- 
tory and  momentous  events,  the  site  of  any  cathedral  is.  A  few 
hours  only  there  at  the  shrine,  and  the  material  curtain  for  us 
two  drops,  and  never  perhaps  to  be  raised  while  we  are  in  the 
flesh.  It  was  another  scene  of  lightning-like  presentation,  but 
the  photograph  was  taken.  The  impression  is  clear,  clean-cut 
of  detail  and  outline  ;  and  though  it  may  be  dimmed  it  will  never 
be  effaced,  nor  beyond  recall.  We  leave  the  famed  place,  and, 
entering  the  station,  sit  mute  in  our  car.  The  common  things 
of  every-day  life  take  us  in  charge.  Engine,  embankments, 
bridges,  tunnels,  fields,  every-day  things,  terribly  modern,  come 
up  in  front,  and  gently  absorb  attention.  The  mind  quietly  and 
imperceptibly  yields.  We  are  kindly  let  down,  and  the  spell 
is  broken. 

We  are  on  our  way  to  Cambridge.  It 's  6.30  p.  m.  only,  and 
that 's  early  for  these  long  English  June  days.  Classic  and  wor- 
thily renowned  Cambridge  !  Our  thoughts  go  on  and  not  back 
now.  When  one  has  been  thinking  of  a  great  thing,  it 's  a  com- 
fort, when  ruthlessly  removing  from  it,  to  be  permitted  to  think 
of  another  as  great  or  greater. 


CAMBRIDGE. 


295 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

CAMBRIDGE. 

OUR  arrival  here  was  at  7.30  p.  m.  on  Thursday,  June  n, 
with  but  an  hour's  ride  from  Ely.  This  city,  as  is  well 
known,  is  the  other  great  university  place  of  England, 
with  its  sister  Oxford,  and  is  in  many  respects  like  that ;  for  aside 
from  its  being  a  great  seat  of  learning,  the  general  look  and 
surroundings  are  much  the  same.  Fine  meadows  surround  the 
city,  and  the  River  Cam  runs  through  it,  as  does  the  Cherwell  at 
Oxford.  Hie  place  is  one  of  great  antiquity,  for  in  Doomsday- 
book  it  is  described  as  an  important  place,  and  is  there  called 
Grente-bridge,  from  one  of  the  then  names  of  the  river.  Its 
present  name  is  derived  from  the  more  modern  name,  Cam, 
which  is  nearer  correct.  The  pronunciation  by  the  inhabitants 
was  Cam-bridge,  giving  a  its  sound  as  in  can,  instead  of  its  long 
sound  as  in  came,  by  our  usage.  In  871  it  was  burnt  by  the 
Danes  ;  rebuilt;  and  burnt  in  1010.  Subsequent  to  this  it  has 
been  the  scene,  at  various  periods,  of  great  historical  events,  but 
we  will  leave  its  ancient  history  and  speak  of  it  as  it  now  is. 

The  present  population,  including  about  8,500  students,  is 
35,372.  What  makes  it  of  peculiar  interest  to  people  of  Massa- 
chusetts is,  that  from  it  is  taken  the  name  of  our  Cambridge, 
which  was  done  in  honor  of  some  of  the  early  settlers,  who  were 
graduates  here,  and  also  of  Rev.  John  Harvard,  who  removed 
from  here  to  America,  and  died  at  our  Charlestown,  Sept.  24, 
1638.  At  his  death  he  made  a  donation  to  our  college  of  money 
and  his  library  of  300  books. 

No  more  beautiful  place  of  sojourn  in  the  kingdom  of  Great 
Britain  exists  than  this.  There  is  at  one  of  the  principal  busi- 
ness sections  quite  a  commercial  aspect,  there  being  good  stores 
for  the  sale  of  goods  of  all  kinds,  and  the  bookstores  are  exqui- 
sitely tempting.  Here  and  there  are  fine  old  mansions  elegantly 
embowered  in  trees  \  and  winding  about  among  them,  and  for 
long  di  ire  the  most  rural  of  roads  imaginable  for  quiet 

rambles,  strongly  reminding  one  of  the  more  retired  parts  of  oil r 


296  ENGLAND. 

Roxbury,  most  of  them  being  shaded  by  venerable  trees.  There 
are  examples  of  churches,  with  their  surrounding  graveyards, 
which  boast  of  wry  great  antiquity,  and  they  also  greet  us  with 
a  look  of  centuries.  The  people  are  blest  with  a  becoming  and 
good  reverence  for  these  time-honored  enclosures  and  venerable 
buildings,  and  they  religiously  repair  them  when  needed,  but 
refrain  from  amending. 

Happily  for  them,  public  sentiment  is  such  that  no  Old  South 
campaigns,  such  as  balls,  fairs,  and  "  Carnivals  of  Authors,"  are 
required  before  they  will  refrain  from  putting  them  out  of  exist- 
ence. An  atmosphere  of  learning,  and  suggestions  of  high 
cultivation,  and  that  of  centuries'  duration  and  exercise,  prevails 
and  is  everywhere  apparent.  Even  the  business  portion  seems 
to  be  subdued,  refined,  and  classic.  After  making  due  allow- 
ance for  the  fact  of  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  place  and 
interest  in  it  exciting,  perhaps,  a  too  intense  admiration,  one  gets 
the  impression  that  the  children  are  more  refined,  and  that  even 
the  street  horses  are  better  behaved  than  elsewhere  ;  he  all  the 
time  feels  as  though  he  was  enveloped  in  an  atmosphere  of  unu- 
sual propriety,  for  there  's  a  sort  of  Sunday-air  about  everything. 

As  at  Oxford,  the  colleges  are  many  in  number,  and  the  build- 
ings are  of  peculiar  construction,  entirely  unlike  ours  in  America. 
We  have  given  a  full  description  of  those  at  Oxford,  and  remarks 
concerning  them  apply  alike  to  these,  for  in  most  respects  they 
do  not  vary  much  from  each  other.  It  may  be  said  that,  take 
at  random  one  half  of  those  at  Oxford,  and  exchange  buildings 
and  grounds  with  an  equal  number  from  Cambridge,  —  take 
them  promiscuously,  and  put  each  respectively  in  the  place  of 
the  other,  —  and  you  would  in  no  way  attract  especial  attention 
so  far  as  style,  size,  or  kind  of  architecture  is  concerned.  Of 
course  all  vary  from  each  other,  but  part  of  those  in  one  place 
do  not  vary  from  part  of  those  of  another,  any  more  than  each 
varies  from  its  neighbor. 

Here  are  the  same  courts,  or  closes,  called  courts  at  Cambridge, 
and  quads  at  Oxford.  They  are  always  entered  by  a  principal 
arch  or  gateway  from  a  main  street,  and  there  enclosed  is  the 
elegant  lawn  of  that  indescribably  velvet-like  grass,  for  which 
such  places  are  celebrated,  and  which  the  mild  and  moist  cli- 
mate so  well  takes  care  of  and  favors.  Then  there  is  a  grand 
and  scrupulously  clean  gravel-walk  around  it,  and  up  against 
the  buildings ;  and  it  may  be  there  are  good  paths  across  it, 
leading  to  other  openings,  through  under  the  first  story  to  an- 
other court  of  like  nature,  and  yet  again  to  others,  —  for  some 
colleges  have  four  or  more  of  these. 


CAMBRIDGE.  297 

Everywhere  exists  a  neatness  that  is  remarkable,  —  no  particle 
of  paper  nor  bit  of  anything  to  mar  the  nicety.  Windows  innu- 
merable are  filled  on  their  outside  sills  with  pots  of  flowers.  We 
often  say,  as  we  pass  through  the  courts  and  observe  the  perfect 
repair  every  building  is  in,  —  the  cleanliness,  the  comfortable 
quiet,  — "  How  perfect,  and  what  a  good  public  sentiment 
among  the  students  there  must  be  to  make  the  condition 
possible." 

Aside  from  these  courts,  some,  and  perhaps  most  of  the  col- 
leges, have  very  large  and  great  park-like  grounds  and  of  many 
acres  in  extent,  with  walks  ancient  and  shaded  with  venerable 
trees.  The  lazy  River  Cam  moves  leisurely  through  them,  as  if 
loath  to  leave,  and  as  though  admiring  its  visit  and  stay.  As  we 
stood  on  one  of  the  grand  old  bridges  crossing  it,  —  and  there 
are  quite  a  number  on  the  grounds  leading  from  one  division 
of  the  park  to  another,  and  sometimes,  as  at  St.  John's  College, 
connecting  two  buildings,  —  as  we  stood  looking  down  into  the 
water  we  almost  felt  that  it,  as  we  did,  realized  that  the  visit  was 
one  of  a  lifetime,  and  not  to  be  hurried  over. 

How  inducive  of  thought  are  these  old  classic  grounds,  cen- 
turies in  use?  Poets,  philosophers,  and  martyrs,  the  most  re- 
nowned men  of  the  world,  have  here  walked  as  we  are  walking. 
Oxford  has  had  her  great  men,  and  we  bow  reverently  at  the 
thought  or  even  mention  of  their  names.  How  the  destinies  of 
the  kingdom  and  those  of  the  world  have  been  influenced  by 
men  to  whom  Oxford  was  alma  mater ;  but  an  intense  conser- 
vatism lias  always  nestled  in  her  bosom  and  been  suckled  at  her 
breasts.  For  centuries  it  was  Oxford's  conscientious  duty  and 
work  to  be  conservator  of  religion  and  philosophy,  and,  as  she 
understood  it,  to  see  that  the  ship  did  not  drag  anchor,  drift, 
nor  move  a  particle  from  her  ancient  moorings  of  received  doc- 
trines and  principles  ;  and  so,  if  burning  of  martyrs  would  aid 
the  cause,  martyrs  must  be  burned,  and  Hooper  and  Latimer 
and  Ridley  and  Cranmer,  Cambridge  men,  must  be  ensamples 
and  victims.  As  a  result  the  flame  of  poetry  burned  low  in  that 
university,  and  if  the  world  was  to  have  a  Milton  and  a  Spen- 
ser, a  Gray  and  a  Byron,  Christ's,  Pembroke,  and  Trinity  of 
Cambr  I  furnish  them.    So  of  great  philosophers  !    Cam- 

's Trinity  must  furnish  Newton  and  Bacon  ;  and,  as  named, 
the  great  martyrs  Cranmer,  Latimer,  and  Ridley  must  go  from 
i  Clare,  and   Pembroke  of  this  university;   and  what  vast 

influen  certed   by  die  labors  of 

John  R  .  the  Pilgrims'  minister  and  spiritual  adviser,  who 


298  ENGLAND. 

although  he  died  before  he  was  permitted  to  look  on  this  prom- 
ised land,  yet  was  to  the  moment  of  his  death  their  best  earthly 
friend  ;  and  so  we  may  speak  of  Elder  Brewster  and  of  John 
Cotton ;  of  Shepard  of  Lynn,  and  Parker  and  Noyes  of  New- 
bury, and  all  their  fellow-contemporaries  in  the  work  of  the 
ministry,  —  hardly  one,  save  the  two  last  named,  who  did  not 
graduate  at  Cambridge  !  Archbishop  Laud  declared  Sidney, 
Sussex,  and  Immanuel  Colleges  here  to  be  "  the  nurseries  of 
Puritanism."  To  use  the  thought  of  Dean  Stanley  :  "  It  seems 
to  have  been  the  mission  of  Cambridge  to  make  martyrs,  and 
the  work  of  Oxford  to  burn  them." 

But  we  pass  on  and  notice  the  colleges  themselves.  From 
their  great  number  and  the  long  history  each  has,  it  will  be  im- 
possible to  give  even  a  respectable  synopsis  of  their  history,  and 
we  can  do  but  little  more  than  name  them,  as  was  done  for 
Oxford,  in  the  order  of  their  founding,  with  the  date,  and  give 
a  sample  only  of  names  of  the  eminent  men  who  have  been 
educated  at  each  ;  and  first  in  the  list  is  St.  Peter's,  founded 
1284,  by  Hugh  de  Balsham,  Bishop  of  Ely.  The  library  con- 
tains 6,000  volumes,  and  has  fine  old  antique  portraits  of  some 
of  the  masters  and  fellows,  dating  from  1418  to  1578.  Among 
its  eminent  men  were  the  famous  Cardinal  Beaufort,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  who  died  1447.  Thomas  Gray,  author  of  the  re- 
nowned "Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard,"  died  in  1771,  and 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Ellenboro',  18 18. 

The  second  in  antiquity  is  Clare  College,  founded  by  Dr. 
Richard  Badew,  Chancellor  of  the  University,  in  1326.  Eliza- 
beth Clare,  the  third  sister  and  co-heiress  of  Gilbert  de  Clare, 
Earl  of  Gloucester  and  Hertford,  of  her  bounty  built  the  college 
buildings,  and  in  1347  endowed  it  with  land  ;  and  from  thence 
it  obtained  the  name  which  it  has  held  for  over  five  centuries. 
The  grounds  named  are  inconceivably  elegant,  and  a  graceful 
poet  of  Oxford,  in  speaking  of  them,  remarks  as  follows  :  — 

Ah  me  !  were  ever  river-banks  so  fair, 
Gardens  so  fit  for  nightingales  as  these  ? 
Were  ever  haunts  so  meet  for  summer  breeze, 
Or  pensive  walk  in  evening's  golden  air? 
Was  ever  town  so  rich  in  court  and  tower, 
To  woo  and  win  stray  moonlight  every  hour  ? 

Some  of  her  eminent  men  are,  beside  the  martyr  Latimer : 
John  Tillotson,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  died  in  1594  ;  Ralph 
Cudworth,  D.  D.,  the  celebrated  writer,  1688;  and  Rev.  James 
Hervey,  author  of  the  Meditations,  1758.     The  next  is  Pern- 


CAMBRIDGE.  299 

broke,  founded  in  1347,  by  Mary  de  St.  Paul,  second  wife  of 
Aymer  de  Valence,  Earl  of  Pembroke.  She  obtained  her  char- 
ter from  Edward  III.  Her  husband  had  died  suddenly  in 
France  in  1324.  The  venerable  appearance  of  the  buildings 
caused  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  she  visited  it  for  the  first  time,  to 
salute  it  in  a  Latin  exclamation,  a  translation  of  which  is,  "  O 
house  antique  and  religious."  The  thought  may  have  been 
suggested  by  a  remembrance  of  John  Rogers,  and  of  Bradford 
and  Ridley,  who  suffered  martyrdom  in  the  preceding  reign,  and 
who  were  all  of  this  college,  the  last  named  having  been  its 
master,  or,  as  we  say,  its  president. 

The  chapel  was  built  in  1665,  from  designs  by  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  architect  of  St.  Paul's  London.  The  library  contains 
10,000  volumes.  This  college  has  been  called  Collegium  Epis- 
copate, from  the  great  number  of  bishops  who  were  here  edu- 
cated. Among  her  eminent  men  was  the  martyr  Ridley,  who 
was  burned  at  the  stake  in  1555;  Edmund  Spenser  the  poet, 
1599  ;  and  William  Pitt,  1806. 

Gonville  and  Caius  College  (Caius  is  called  Keys  by  the  stu- 
dents) is  next.  It  was  founded  by  Edmund  de  Gonville  in  1348. 
He  proceeded  to  erect  buildings,  but  did  not  live  to  carry  his 
design  into  full  execution ;  he,  however,  left  money  for  their 
completion.  In  1557  John  Caius,  M.  D.,  physician  to  Queen 
Mary,  endowed  the  college  largely,  and,  having  procured  a  char- 
ter of  incorporation,  it  took  his  name.  Dr.  Caius  was  master  of 
his  college  from  1559  till  within  a  few  weeks  of  his  death  in  15  73. 

There  are  in  the  college  grounds  three  gates,  which  lead  to  as 
many  of  the  courts.  One,  erected  by  the  Doctor  in  1565,  has 
the  Latin  inscription  over  it,  Humilitatis,  meaning,  this  is  the 
gate  of  Humility.  The  second  was  built  in  1567.  This  has 
two  inscriptions,  one  on  each  side.  One  is  Virtutis,  the  gate 
of  Virtue.  On  the  other  side  is  Jo  Caius  possuit  Sapientl<e, 
"John  Caius  built  this  in  honor  of  Wisdom."  The  third  is 
inscribed  Honoris,  the  gate  of  Honor,  and  was  built  in  1574. 
On  the  north  wall  of  the  chapel  is  an  inscription  to  the  founder 
of  the  college.  It  is  in  Latin,  a  free  translation  of  which  is  as 
follows:  "Virtue  our  Death  survives.  I  was  Caius,  aged  63, 
Died  July  29,  Anno  Domini  1573."  Dr.  Caius  gave  to  the  col- 
lege a  beautiful  Caduceus,  or  silver  mace,  ornamented  with  four 
twining  serpents;  it  is  two  feet  and  a  half  long,  and,  by  his 
direction,  is  borne  before  the  master  at  the  principal  college 
festivities. 

This  has  been  marked  as  the  Medical  College  of  Cambridge, 


300  ENGLAND. 

and  has  produced  a  long  roll  of  eminent  physicians,  among  whom 
is  William  Harvey,  the  discoverer  of  the  circulation  of  blood, 
in  1657.  It  has  also  produced  several  antiquarians,  who  were 
distinguished  for  their  valuable  researches.  Among  her  eminent 
men  may  be  named  Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  founder  of  the  Royal 
Exchange,  London,  —  died  1579;  also  the  distinguished  Bishop 
Jeremy  Taylor,  1667. 

The  next  in  order,  the  fifth,  is  Trinity  Hall.  This  is  the  only 
college  which  retains  its  original  designation  of  hall.  A  few 
years  ago  there  were  three  others  so  called,  Pembroke,  Clare, 
and  St.  Catherine's.  The  first  of  these  changed  appellation 
about  thirty  years  ago ;  the  two  latter  quite  recently,  to  avoid 
being  confounded  with  the  private  halls  contemplated  in  the 
University  act,  but  afterwards  changed  to  hostels.  This  college 
was  one  of  the  hostels  for  the  accommodation  of  students,  but 
was  purchased  by  John  de  Cranden,  Prior  of  Ely,  for  the  monks 
to  study  in  ;  and  in  the  year  1350  it  was  obtained  of  the  prior 
and  convent  of  Ely  by  William  Bateman,  Bishop  of  Norwich, 
with  the  lands  thereto  appertaining,  who  constituted  it  a  "  perpet- 
ual college  of  scholars  of  canon  and  civil  law  in  the  University 
of  Cambridge  ;  "  and,  in  accordance  with  the  founder's  inten- 
tions, it  is  particularly  appropriated  to  the  study  of  civil  law. 

It  is  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  has  three  courts. 
The  eminent  men  are  Stephen  Gardiner,  a  distinguished  Bishop 
of  Winchester,  died  1555  ;  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham,  com- 
mander against  the  renowned  Spanish  Armada,  1573  ;  Thomas 
Tusser  the  poet,  and  author  of  the  somewhat  celebrated  "  One 
Hundred  Points  of  Good  Husbandry,"  1580;  and,  above  all, 
the  distinguished  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  Philip  Dormer  Stanhope, 
1773.  Among  the  bright  lights  of  modern  times  may  be  named 
the  late  Lord  Lytton,  the  novelist,  poet,  and  statesman  ;  and 
also  Sir  Alexander  Cockburn,  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  England, 
who  took  so  conspicuous  a  part  in  the  controversy  between 
England  and  America  concerning  the  Alabama  Claims. 

The  sixth  is  Corpus  Christi.  Two  ancient  Saxon  guilds  were 
united  to  form  it,  and  in  1352  King  Edward  II.  granted  a  license 
for  its  founding.  This  college  has  one  modern  and  elegant 
building,  the  corner-stone  of  which  was  laid  July  3,  1823.  All 
its  appointments  are  grand.  It  has  in  its  museum  some  plate 
that  is  very  old  and  curious  ;  an  antique  drinking-horn,  presented 
to  the  guild  of  Corpus  Christi,  in  1347,  by  John  Goldcorne  ;  the 
cup  of  the  Three  Kings,  —  a  small  bowl  of  dark  wood  mounted 
with  silver ;  thirteen  silver-gilt  spoons,  terminated  by  figures  of 


CAMBRIDGE.  301 

Christ  and  the  apostles  ;  an  elegant  salt-cellar  nearly  a  foot  high ; 
a  magnificent  ewer  and  basin  ;  and  a  cup  with  a  cover  weighing 
53  ounces. 

Among  her  eminent  men  are  the  justly  renowned  Mathew 
Parker,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  died  1575  ;  Christopher  Mar- 
lowe the  dramatist,  1593;  John  Fletcher,  the  dramatist,  and 
colleague  with  Beaumont,  1625  ;  and  Archbishop  Tennison  of 
Canterbury,  1 715. 

The  seventh  is  King's.  This  royal  and  very  magnificent  insti- 
tution arose  from  the  munificence  of  the  meek  but  unfortunate 
King  Henry  VI.,  who  endowed  it  in  1443.  His  misfortunes 
prevented  him  from  carrying  out  designs  which  would  have  made 
it  greatly  excel  any  other  college.  It  was  aided,  however,  by 
Edward  IV.  and  Richard  III.,  but  it  was  reserved  for  his  thrifty 
nephew,  Henry  VII.,  by  devotions  in  his  lifetime  and  by  his 
will,  to  provide  funds  for  the  completion  of  the  noble  edifice. 

However  pressed  for  space,  we  must  employ  enough  to  speak 
of  the  remarkable  chapel,  which  is  one  of  the  great  objects 
of  attraction  at  Cambridge,  and  one  of  the  most  interesting 
buildings  in  Christendom.  It  is  of  what  is  known  as  the  per- 
pendicular Gothic  architecture.  Its  length  is  316  feet.  The 
corner-stone  was  laid  by  Henry  VI.,  July  25,  1446.  The  work 
progressed  till  1484,  when  it  came  to  a  standstill  for  want  of 
funds;  but  in  1508  Henry  VII.  took  it  in  hand,  contributing 
.£5,000,  and  his  executors  bestowed  £5,000  more  in  15 13.  It 
was  not  till  July  29,  15 15,  in  the  seventh  year  of  Henry  VIII., 
that  the  exterior  was  finished.  This  was  just  69  years  from  its 
commencement.  Nothing  more  was  done  till  1526,  when  ar- 
rangements were  made  for  the  fine  painted  glass  windows.  The 
elegant  screen-work  and  elaborate  oak  stalls  were  put  up  in  1534. 
All  this  work  is  very  curiously  carved,  and  was  done  when  Anne 
Boleyn  was  queen  ;  the  west  side  is  ornamented  with  several 
lover's  knots,  and  the  arms  of  Queen  Anne  impaled  with  those 
of  the  king.  On  this  screen,  in  the  old  cathedral  style,  is  the 
organ,  which  is  of  very  large  capacity,  and  in  i860  £2,000  was 
expended  on  it. 

It  would  be  next  to  an  impossibility  to  adequately  describe 
this  magnificent  interior.  It  is  of  very  great  height,  and  the 
ceiling  is  of  fan-tracery  of  the  most  elaborate  design  of  open- 
work cut  in  stone.  Arms  of  all  the  kings  of  England,  from 
Henry  V.  to  James  I.,  are  here.  The  painted  glass  windows, 
twenty-five  in  number,  are  remarkably  large,  and  for  brilliancy 
of  color  and  artistic  design  are  surpassed  by  none  in  the  world. 


302  ENGLAND. 

They  represent  Old  and  New  Testament  scenes.  The  designs 
are  entirely  English,  and  the  date  of  their  manufacture  ranges 
from  1516  to  1532,  so  that  the  very  latest  is  more  than  346 
years  old,  or  88  years  before  the  Pilgrims  set  sail  for  America. 
Choral  service  is  performed  in  the  chapel  every  afternoon.  The 
grounds  are  very  grand,  and  too  much  cannot  be  thought  or 
said  of  this  institution. 

Among  her  eminent  men  were  Robert  Woodlark,  founder  of 
St.  Catherine  College  ;  Sir  Francis  Walsingham,  secretary  of 
state  to  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  Bishop  Pearson,  author  of  the  cele- 
brated "  Exposition  of  the  Creed  ;  "  and  Sir  Robert  Walpole, 
the  renowned  and  royal  minister  of  state. 

We  cannot  leave  these  grounds  without  asking  the  reader  to 
go  with  us  to  the  great  and  single-arch  stone  bridge,  —  King's 
Bridge,  —  and  for  a  moment  enjoy  the  grand  views  to  be  had 
from  it.  To  the  right  is  to  be  seen  the  front  of  the  Fellows' 
Building  and  the  west  end  of  the  great  chapel.  Immediately  in 
front  is  Clare  College,  with  its  picturesque  bridge.  The  bridges 
and  avenues  make  a  grand  view,  bounded  in  the  distance  by  the 
grounds  of  Trinity  College.  On  the  other  side  the  view  is  of  a 
more  retired  character.  In  the  distance  to  the  left  are  the  spires 
and  turrets  of  Queen's  College,  and  extending  along  the  side  of 
the  river  is  the  terraced  walk  and  quiet  shady  grove  of  the  same 
institution.  The  venerable  avenue  at  right-angles  with  this,  tra- 
dition has  long  pointed  out  as  the  favorite  walk  of  Erasmus  ;  and 
in  deference  to  this  tradition  the  University  purchased  it  of  the 
town,  by  whom  it  was  doomed  at  one  time  to  destruction. 

Queen's  College  is  the  eighth  in  order.  This,  in  its  archi- 
tecture, history,  and  plan,  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  and 
interesting  of  all  the  colleges.  It  was  founded  in  1448  by 
Margaret  of  Anjou,  consort  of  Henry  VI.,  who,  amidst  a  career 
perhaps  one  of  the  most  troubled  and  chequered  on  record, 
found  time  and  means  to  emulate  the  example  of  her  royal 
husband,  and,  while  he  was  erecting  King's  College,  became  the 
foundress  of  this.  The  civil  wars  interrupted  the  work,  but 
Andrew  Doket,  the  first  master,  by  good  management  secured 
the  patronage  of  Elizabeth  Woodville,  consort  of  Edward  IV., 
who  set  apart  a  portion  of  her  income  for  its  endowment,  and 
she  has  since  been  annually  celebrated  as  a  co-foundress. 

Among  the  things  of  especial  interest  is  a  sun-dial,  said  to  have 
been  made  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton  ;  and  next  is  the  Erasmus  Court 
and  tower.  When  the  erudite  and  ingenious  Erasmus  visited 
England,  at   the  invitation   of   his  friend  Bishop  Fisher,    then 


CAMBRIDGE.  303 

Chancellor  of  the  University,  he  chose  this  college  as  his  place 
of  residence,  "  having  his  study,"  says  Fuller,  "  at  the  top  of  the 
southwest  tower  of  the  court  now  called  by  his  name."  This 
college,  like  many  others,  has  gardens  and  fine  grounds  on  both 
sides  of  the  river.  They  are  connected  by  a  wooden  bridge  of 
one  span, — an  ingenious  piece  of  carpentry,  and  frequently  called 
the  Mathematical  Bridge.  To  the  right  of  this  is  the  Grove,  a 
most  inviting  place  for  quiet  meditation.  The  terraced  walk  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  is  a  delightful  spot,  shaded  by  lofty  over- 
hanging elms,  at  the  end  of  which  a  striking  view  is  obtained 
beneath  the  great  stone  arch  of  King's  Bridge. 

The  eminent  members  here,  or  a  few  of  the  vast  lot,  were 
John  Fisher,  the  master  of  the  college  and  Bishop  of  Rochester, 
who  was  beheaded  1535  ;  Thomas  Fuller,  D.  D.,  the  great  Church 
historian,  1561  ;  Dr.  Isaac  Milner,  master,  and  Bishop  of  Car- 
lisle, 1820;  and  Samuel  Lee,  the  eminent  linguist,  1852. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  is  the  ninth  college,  St. 
Catharine's,  founded  in  1475,  by  Robert  Woodlark,  D.  D.  The 
chapel  was  consecrated  1 704,  by  Simon  Patrick,  Bishop  of  Ely. 
The  especially  eminent  men  here  are  John  Bradford,  martyred 
1 5 55  j  J°hn  Strype,  the  learned  ecclesiastical  historian,  1 737  ;  and 
Benjamin  Hoadley,  Bishop  of  Winchester.  It  was  he  who  gave 
rise  to  what  is  known  as  the  celebrated  Bangorian  Controversy, 
in  1 761. 

The  next  college  in  order  of  date,  the  tenth,  is  Jesus.  It  has 
a  most  rural  situation  and  pleasing  aspect,  for  it  is  located  back 
some  distance  from  the  road,  and  is  charmingly  surrounded  with 
gardens,  which  give  it  a  very  domestic  character. 

As  a  general  thing,  the  main  college  buildings  at  Cambridge 
are  out,  bounding  the  street  or  road  ;  but  this  one  is  beautifully 
situated  as  named,  and  its  retired  position  is  said  to  have  called 
forth  the  remark  of  James  I.,  that  if  he  lived  at  the  University 
he  would  pray  at  King's,  eat  at  Trinity,  and  study  and  sleep  at 
Jesus.  It  occupies  the  site  of  an  old  Benedictine  nunnery,  dedi- 
cated to  St.  Rhadegund,  founded  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II. 
Towards  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century  the  nuns  became  no- 
torious for  their  dissolute  lives  and  extravagance  ;  and  in  a  few 
years  the  buildings  fell  into  decay,  and  their  remains  were  so 
wasted  that  only  two  nuns  were  left.  At  this  period  John  Al- 
cock,  Bishop  of  Ely,  determined  to  convert  it  into  a  college  ;  and 
in  1497  he  obtained  letters-patent  to  put  the  college  into  pos- 
session of  the  property  belonging  to  the  nunnery,  and  the  latter 
institution  was  dissolved. 


304  ENGLAND. 

The  college  has  four  courts,  and  its  chapel  is  second  only  to 
that  at  King's  College.  Among  its  ancient  men  were  Cranmer 
the  martyr,  burnt  at  Oxford  1556  ;  Lawrence  Sterne,  the  author 
of"  Tristram  Shandy,"  1  768  ;  and  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  1835. 

The  next,  and  the  eleventh,  is  Christ's.  This  was  founded 
1456,  by  Margaret  Beaufort,  Countess  of  Richmond,  and  moth- 
er of  Henry  VII.  Itaroseoutof  a  hostel  called  Cod's  House, 
which  had  been  endowed  by  Rev.  William  Byngham  of  London 
in  1442.  In  1505,  Lady  Margaret  obtained  a  license  from  her 
own  son,  Henry  VII.,  to  change  its  name  to  Christ's  College, 
and  endow  it.  The  library  contains  9,000  books,  among  which 
are  many  that  are  ancient  and  very  valuable  ;  there  are  also  a 
great  number  of  manuscripts  and  curious  old  works,  particularly 
a  splendid  copy  of  the  Nuremburg  Chronicle  in  Latin,  printed  in 
1494.  The  college  also  possesses  some  beautiful  old  plate, 
which  belonged  to  the  foundress,  especially  two  exquisite  salt- 
cellers,  engraved  with  Beaufort  badges,  and  a  set  of  Apostle 
spoons.  The  garden  is  very  tastefully  laid  out,  and  contains  a 
bowling-green,  a  summer-house,  and  a  bath  ;  but  the  great  attrac- 
tion of  all  others  to  visitors  is  the  celebrated  mulberry-tree 
planted  by  John  Milton  when  he  was  a  student.  The  trunk  is 
much  decayed,  but  the  damaged  parts  are  covered  with  sheet 
lead.  It  is  banked  up  with  earth  covered  with  grass,  being  also 
carefully  propped  up,  and  every  means  used  for  its  preservation  ; 
though  so  aged,  it  is  still  vigorous,  and  produces  excellent  fruit. 
From  the  southeast  of  this  garden  most  charming  views  are  had 
through  the  foliage,  of  King's  College  Chapel  and  other  buildings. 
Among  the  eminent  men  were  Latimer  the  martyr,  1557  ;  John 
Milton,  1674;  Archdeacon  Paley,  author  of  the  Evidences, 
1805  ;  and  Francis  Quarles,  author  of  the  Emblems,  1644. 

Our  next,  and  twelfth,  is  St.  John's,  and  derives  its  name  from 
a  hospital  dedicated  to  St.  John  the  Evangelist,  founded  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  II.,  which  occupied  the  site  of  the  present  college. 
It  was  founded,  like  the  one  last  named,  by  Countess  Richmond, 
mother  of  Henry  VII.  After  having  founded  Christ  College, 
she  was  induced  by  Bishop  Fisher  of  Rochester  to  found  this. 
In  1505  she  took  measures  for  converting  St.  John's  Hospital 
into  a  college,  but  various  causes  prevented  its  being  done  in 
her  lifetime  ;  but  she  added  a  codicil  to  her  will  empowering  her 
executors  to  carry  out  her  design.  She  died  June  29,  1509,  and 
the  college  was  opened  July  29,  15 16.  Rich  endowments,  made 
since,  have  raised  it  considerably  above  the  original  design,  and 
it  now  ranks  as  second  college  of  the  University. 


CAMBRIDGE.  305 

The  new  chapel  is  one  of  the  most  elegant  structures  in  the 
kingdom.  The  corner-stone  was  laid  in  1864.  It  was  from 
designs  by  Scott,  and  cost  ^53,000.  It  is  193  feet  long,  and 
52  feet  wide,  divided  into  chapel  proper  and  ante-chapel.  The 
tower  is  1 63  feet  high  including  the  pinnacles.  It  is  very  massive, 
and  is  open  on  the  inside  to  a  height  of  84  feet.  As  at  King's 
College,  attempts  at  full  description  must  not  be  made.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  the  finish  of  the  interior  is  extravagantly  ele- 
gant, and  that  the  windows  are  remarkable  for  their  wealth  of 
imagery,  and  brilliant  color.  We  will  venture  to  say  that  the 
ceiling  of  the  great  chapel  is  vaulted  in  oak,  in  nineteen  bays, 
decorated  by  a  continuous  line  of  full-length  figures,  and  by  scroll- 
work in  polychrome.  In  the  central  bay  at  the  east  end  is  a 
representation  of  Our  Lord  in  Majesty.  The  other  eighteen 
bays  contain  figures  illustrating  the  eighteen  Christian  centuries 
after  the  first  one,  and  are  indescribably  grand  in  design  and 
execution.  They  are  mainly  devoted  to  representation  of  the 
bishops,  college-founders,  or  of  her  most  eminent  men,  and  we 
give  the  ninth  century  panel  as  an  illustration.  It  portrays 
Henry  Martyn,  missionary  of  India,  William  Wilberforce,  states- 
man, William  Wordsworth,  poet,  Thomas  Whytehead,  missionary 
to  New  Zealand,  Dr.  Wood,  Master  of  St.  John's  College  and 
Dean  of  Ely. 

Passing  out  of  the  third  court  by  an  archway  on  the  south 
side,  a  picturesque  old  bridge  of  three  arches  leads  us  to  the  col- 
lege walks  and  gardens,  which  are  more  pleasantly  laid  out  and 
more  diversified  than  any  others  of  the  University  ;  from  them  a 
fine  view  is  obtained  of  the  library  and  bridge  of  Trinity  College. 
These  walks  consist  of  a  series  of  terraces,  and  retired  paths  en- 
compassing meadows,  which  are  planted  with  fine  trees,  among 
which  are  some  stately  elms.  Beyond  these  is  the  Fellows' 
Garden,  or  Wilderness,  a  large  piece  of  ground  containing  a 
bowling-green ;  and  the  trees  are  planted  in  such  order  as 
to  resemble,  when  in  leaf,  the  interior  of  a  church.  These 
grounds  are  said  to  have  been  laid  out  by  Matthew  Prior,  the 
poet.  Of  her  eminent  ones  may  be  named  the  famous  Ben 
Jonson,  1637  ;  Thomas  Wentworth,  Earl  of  Strafford,  beheaded 
1641  ;  Mark  Akenside  and  Henry  Kirk  White,  poets,  who  died 
1770  and  1806. 

The  thirteenth  is  Magdalen,  which  occupies  a  portion  of  the 
site  of  a  Benedictine  priory,  established  about  1430.  On  the 
suppression  of  monasteries  by  Henry  VIII.  this  college  would 
soon  have  become  extinct,  had  not  Lord  Audley  of    Walden 


306  ENGLAND. 

procured  in  1542  a  grant  of  it,  and  a  charter  to  establish  on  its 
site  a  college  to  be  named  St.  Mary  Magdalen  College.  It  has 
but  two  courts,  and  the  first  is  next  the  street. 

Among  the  matters  of  especial  interest  is  the  library  of  Samuel 
Pepys,  Esq.,  who  died  in  1703,  and  left  his  whole  collection  of 
books  and  manuscripts  to  this  college.  In  the  library  is  that 
curious  and  inexpressibly  interesting  manuscript,  the  original  of 
the  celebrated  Diary  of  Mr.  Pepys.  We  confess  that  nothing  in 
any  of  the  college  libraries  was  of  so  much  interest  as  were  these 
works  of  the  gossipy  Pepys,  and  so  while  at  this  college  it  was 
our  good  fortune  to  examine  the  original  manuscripts  of  the  re- 
markable Diary  in  six  volumes,  about  eight  inches  or  so  square, 
and  two  inches  thick.  If  we  say  that  the  short-hand  resembles 
almost  strictly  any  of  our  present  styles  of  phonography,  with 
here  and  there  a  word  fully  written  out,  we  give  the  best  possible 
idea  of  it.  All  is  exceedingly  clean  and  free  from  any  blot  or 
blemish,  and  just  such  as  may  be  imagined  would  have  been 
prepared  by  the  nice  Pepys.  The  Diary  was  to  us,  before,  one 
of  a  few  choice  books  ;  and  now  since  we  have  seen  his  work,  and 
his  portrait  by  Sir  G.  Kneller,  we  are  more  than  ever  if  possible 
in  mood  to  think  well  of  him  who  has  written  as  none  but  he 
could  or  would  write. 

The  distinguished  personages  of  this  college,  besides  Pepys, 
are  Bryan  Walton,  Bishop  of  Chester  and  editor  of  the  Polyglot 
Bible,  who  died  in  1661  ;  Dr.  James  Dupont,  the  celebrated 
Greek  Professor,  and  master  of  the  college,  1679  ;  and  that  other 
learned  divine  and  college  master,  Dr.  Daniel  Wheatland,  1  740. 

The  fourteenth  is  Trinity,  and  without  question  this  is  the 
noblest  collegiate  institution  of  the  kingdom,  whether  we  regard 
the  number  of  its  members,  or  the  extent  and  value  of  its  build- 
ings, or  the  illustrious  men  who  have  been  educated  within  its 
walls.  A  large  volume  might  be  written  in  relation  to  these,  and 
then  but  a  synopsis  be  given.  It  is  composed,  or  rather  was 
organized,  of  others, — St.  Michael's  House,  founded  in  1324, 
King's  Hall,  in  1337,  and  Physwick's  Hostel,  the  most  important 
institution  of  that  kind  in  Cambridge,  and  with  this  was  included, 
six  other  minor  hostels.  These,  in  1546,  were  surrendered  to 
Henry  VIII.  as  a  preparatory  step  to  the  founding  of  one  mag- 
nificent college,  and  he  by  letters-patent,  Dec.  19,  1546,  founded 
this  in  honor  of  the  Holy  and  Undivided  Trinity,  and  endowed  it 
with  very  considerable  possessions  ;  but  his  death  in  a  few  weeks 
after  stopped  whatever  further  he  may  have  contemplated. 
His  son  and  successor  Edward  VI.  issued  the  statutes  of  the  col- 


CAMBRIDGE.  307 

lege,  and  his  daughter,  Queen  Mary,  considerably  augmented 
its  endowments. 

The  courts,  five  in  number,  are  very  elegant  and  full  of  inter- 
est, but  we  must  pass  all  by,  simply  stating  that  what  is  called  the 
Old  Court  is  said  to  be  the  most  spacious  quadrangle  in  the 
world  and  is  in  dimensions  as  follows,  for  the  four  sides  respect- 
ively, omitting  inches,  287  feet,  344  feet,  256  feet,  and  325  feet, 
giving  an  area  of  79,059  square  feet. 

There  is  nothing  done  in  the  preparation  of  this  series  of 
articles  that  demands  a  greater  sacrifice  of  inclination  to  the 
contrary  than  does  this  abrupt  termination  of  what  would  be  a 
long  and  interesting  statement,  but  limited  space  forbids  even 
the  record  of  full  regrets.  Of  thousands  of  eminent  men  here 
educated  may  be  named  the  illustrious  philosophers  Bacon  and 
Newton,  who  died  in  1626,  1727  ;  also  Crowley,  Dryden,  Byron, 
and  Crabbe,  poets  ;  Dr.  Isaac  Barrow,  the  learned  divine  ;  Rich- 
ard Porson,  the  eminent  Greek  critic  and  scholar ;  and  Lord 
Macaulay,  the  historian  and  essayist ;  and  we  cannot  well  refrain 
from  adding  that  there  also  was  educated  England's  greatest 
modern  poet,  Alfred  Tennyson. 

Having  begun  a  somewhat  extended  description  of  the  colleges 
composing  this  famed  university,  we  are  devoting  more  space  to 
them  than  at  first  anticipated,  but  feel  justified,  as  the  subject  is 
one  of  great  interest  to  us  all,  our  own  University  City  being  most 
intimately  related  to  it ;  and  so  we  speak  of  the  remaining 
of  the  seventeen  colleges  before  we  proceed  to  speak  of  other 
items  of  interest. 

The  next  in  order,  the  fifteenth,  is  one  of  very  great  moment 
to  us  of  New  England,  for  our  interests  are  so  closely  connected 
with  it ;  and  that  is  Emanuel,  which  occupies  the  site  of  a  dissolved 
monastery  of  Dominicans,  or  Black  Friars.  On  the  dissolution 
of  monasteries  this  site  was  granted  to  Edward  Ebrington  and 
Humphrey  Metcalf,  of  whose  heirs  it  was  purchased  by  Sir  Wal- 
ter Mildmay.  This  distinguished  statesman  was  one  of  the  most 
eminent  adherents  of  what  were  termed  Puritanical  principles ; 
and,  with  possibly  the  idea  of  establishing  a  nursery  of  those  doc- 
trines, in  the  year  1584  he  obtained  from  Queen  Elizabeth  a 
charter  for  the  incorporation  of  this  college. 

No  college  of  the  University  has  done  so  much  toward  decid- 
ing the  fortunes,  and  it  may  be  said  the  existence  of  New  Eng- 
land, as  has  this.  Established  in  1584,  which  was  but  29  years 
after  the  burning  of  the  martyrs  at  Smithfield  and  Oxford,  and 
coming  into  existence  as  it  were  in  spite  of  those  deeds  of  dark- 


308  ENGLAND. 

ness,  it  became  the  one  of  all  others  to  which  those  stanch  men 
and  advancing  ones  would  send  their  sons,  and  a  grand  and 
mighty  power  was  wielded,  and  strength  and  even  respectability 
were  given  to  the  movement.  This  college  is  intimately  con- 
nected with  our  history ;  and  New  England  will  not  have  done 
her  duty,  nor  availed  herself  of  a  good  privilege  that  is  hers,  till 
in  these  college-grounds  she  has  erected  a  memorial  to  those 
determined  and  worthy  men  who  did  so  much  for  New  England. 

John  Robinson,  the  Pilgrims'  minister,  who  was  to  have  come 
to  America  the  next  spring  but  who  died  before  his  eyes  could 
be  gladdened  by  the  sight,  was  educated  at  Emanuel.  To  our 
disgrace  be  it  said,  his  dust  to-day  moulders  in  the  soil  of  Hol- 
land, without  so  much  as  a  plain  slab  to  tell  of  his  resting-place  ; 
and  only  as  the  guide  in  the  church  informs  one,  in  reply  to  a 
request  to  be  pointed  to  the  spot,  is  the  resting-place  of  the 
great  departed  ever  seen. 

Thomas  Shepard  and  Henry  Dunster,  the  latter  our  Harvard's 
second  president,  —  these  also  to-day  in  their  death,  as  they  did  in 
life,  honor  this  as  their  Alma  Mater. 

The  library  contains  20,000  volumes,  and  some  very  rare  and 
valuable  manuscripts.  The  building  itself  was  for  nearly  a  century 
the  college  chapel ;  but  so  much  of  the  Puritan  element  was 
here,  that  the  chapel  proper  was  never  consecrated.  Little 
however,  did  this  trouble  the  worshippers,  but  the  contrary  was 
the  case.  By-and-by  the  church  was  in  the  ascendant,  and 
then, "in  1677,  a  new  chapel  had  been  built  from  designs  by  the 
celebrated  Wren,  "  built  due  east  and  west,"  and  all  the  appli- 
ances came  of  a  non-dissenting  church,  consecrated  by  Bishop, 
and  from  then  till  now  in  good  established  use. 

Here  were  educated  William  Sancroft,  the  renowned  Bishop 
of  London  at  the  time  of  building  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  and 
afterwards  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  in  1693  ;  Sir  William 
Temple,  statesman  and  essayist,  1700;  and  Dr.  Parr,  1825. 
This,  with  the  next  college  to  be  described,  was  considered  by 
Archbishop  Laud,  as  a  very  dangerous  institution,  and  he  desig- 
nated the  two  as  nurseries  of  Puritanism. 

That  sister  college  — the  sixteenth,  Sidney  Sussex — was  built 
on  the  site  of  a  monastery  of  Gray  Friars.  On  the  subjugation  of 
their  institution  it  was  granted  by  Henry  VIII.  to  Trinity  College, 
of  whom  it  was  purchased  by  the  executors  of  Frances,  daughter 
of  Sir  William  Sidney,  and  widow  of  Thomas  Radcliffe,  third  Earl 
of  Sussex  ;  who,  by  will  dated  Dec.  6,  1588,  bequeathed  ^5,000 
and  some  other  property  to  found  this  college,  and  the  corner- 


CAMBRIDGE.  309 

stone  was  laid  May  20,  1590.  The  building  was  completed  in 
three  years,  and  the  college  at  once  took  a  high  rank  and  good 
standing.  It  will  always  be  celebrated  for  its  connection  with 
Oliver  Cromwell,  who  entered  here  as  a  student  April  26,  1 616,  at 
the  age  of  seventeen,  and  on  the  college  books  is  the  following 
record  :  — 

Oliverus  Cromwell  Hiintingdoniensis  admissus  ad  commeatum 
siciorum  Aprilis  vicesimo  sexto,  tutore  mag  Ricardo  Howlet. 

An  amusing  interpolation  in  a  different  and  later  handwriting 
appears,  and  speaks  of  him  as  :  — 

Grandis  impostor;   earn  if  ax perditissimus,  ete. 

His  father  dying  the  next  year,  and  leaving  no  property,  the 
son  was  obliged  to  leave  college ;  but,  as  Bishop  Burnett  was 
pleased  to  say,  "  some  Latin  stuck  to  him."  His  room  was  one 
in  which  is  an  Oriel  window,  on  Bridge  Street.  There  is  in  the 
master's  lodge  a  fine  portrait  of  the  great  Protector,  made  near 
the  close  of  his  life,  and  it  is  said  to  be  remarkably  faithful  to 
the  original.  The  long  coarse  gray  hair  is  parted  in  the  middle 
and  reaches  venerably  to  the  shoulders.  The  forehead  is  high, 
majestic,  and  bold,  and  has  a  deeply  marked  line  between  the 
eyes,  which  are  gray,  and  suggesting  the  repose  of  a  vast  power. 
The  complexion  is  high-colored,  mottled,  and  the  features  are 
large  and  rugged  like  the  nature  of  the  man  himself;  but  it  has 

—  now  that  the  feverish  dream  of  his  eventful  life  has  declined 

—  come  to  appear  to  have,  by  new  interpretations  and  as  seen 
through  new  mediums,  a  calm,  dignified,  and,  some  would  say, 
a  benevolent  look.  It  is  enough  for  one  college  that  for  a  year 
Cromwell  was  her  foster-child. 

And  now,  for  centuries,  founding  at  Cambridge  ends.  Puri- 
tanism has  set  the  world  astir.  The  church,  reformed  as  she 
prided  herself  to  be,  had  her  hands  full  to  look  after  the  already 
educated  ones,  and  so  no  more  founding  of  colleges  for  a  long 
time  was  to  be  done  ;  and  we  bridge  over  the  chasm  of  121 
years,  till,  in  171 7,  Sir  George  Downing  qualifiedly  devised  sev- 
eral valuable  estates  fur  the  founding  of  a  college  within  the 
precin<  ts  of  the  University  ;  and  so  this  is  the  seventeenth,  and 
the  last  in  order. 

I  [e  died  in  1749.  The  sole  inheritor  of  the  property  died  in 
I;'*.},  and  left  the  estates  to  his  lady;  but  the  terms  of  Sir 
rill  being  that  if  his  heirs  died  without  issue  the  prop- 
erty was  to  go  to  the  founding  of  a  college  as  named,  the  estate 
'limed  by  the  I  j  ;  and  after  years  of  litigation  the 

validity  of  the  will  •.  Ij  bed,  and  the  seal  was  affixed  to 

barter  of  the  new  college,  Sept  22,  1800. 


310  ENGLAND. 

The  corner-stone  was  laid  with  great  ceremony,  May  18,  1807, 
and  it  was  opened  in  May,  i82i,or  more  than  225  years  from  the 
date  of  the  opening  of  the  next  one  preceding  it.  The  date  oi  the 
founding  of  the  first  one,  St.  Peter's,  being  1257,  a  period  of  564 
years  intervened  between  the  establishment  of  that  first  and  this 
last  one  ;  and  in  all,  from  then  till  now,  626  years  have  passed,  or 
more  than  a  third  of  all  the  time  since  the  birth  of  Christ. 

However  pleasant  it  would  be  to  pass  in  review  a  few  of  the 
thoughts  that  come  as  it  were  demanding  attention,  we  must  pass 
all.  Replete  with  interest  are  these  two  great  centres  of  learn- 
ing, Cambridge  and  Oxford,  England's  Yale  and  Harvard. 
How  the  destinies  of  men  and  nations,  the  civilized  world  over, 
have  been  not  only  influenced,  but  made  and  controlled  by  their 
influence  !  What  hallowed  grounds  are  these  classic  walks  amid 
these  trees,  by  the  River  Cam  !  How  interesting  are  these  venera- 
ble weather-worn  walls,  these  courts,  these  half-destroyed  stairs 
of  stone,  rasped  away,  and  deep  into,  by  feet  of  men  distin- 
guished and  great  in  all  the  departments  of  intellectual  life  ! 

It  was  our  intention  to  have  spoken  extendedly  of  the  govern- 
ment of  these  institutions,  and  of  many  things  pertaining  to 
them,  but  we  must  refer  the  reader  to  the  more  appropriate 
sources  of  information  for  that.  We  would  have  spoken  also  of 
those  grand  old  dining-halls,  of  which  every  college  has  one. 
Some  of  them  are  many  centuries  old,  with  quaint  rich  finish  of 
old  English  oak,  high  open- timber  roofs,  fine  windows,  and  grand 
old  portraits  adorning  their  walls.  These  halls  are  museums 
of  interest  inexpressible.  Here  are  the  very  benches  on 
which  the  boys  sat,  the  greatest  men  of  earth  in  embryo.  The 
libraries,  with  their  mementoes,  their  curious  and  rare  old  articles 
and  books  and  paintings!  How  well  we  know  that  not  one  of 
our  readers,  who  has  not  seen  these  things,  can  even  approxi- 
mately comprehend  what  we  write.  The  old  and  new  chapels  ! 
What  repositories  of  greatness,  and  what  charms  inhere  ! 

We  would  have  spoken  of  great  things  outside  the  University, 
for  there  are  many  that  are  indeed  great,  and  they  crowd  them- 
selves up  now,  if  for  nothing  more,  for  an  honorable  mention. 
The  Fitzwilliam  Museum  has  grand  picture-galleries,  and  works 
of  art  and  antiquity  incredible ;  the  building  itself  is  a  marvel 
of  good  architecture.  Old  St.  Benedict's  Church,  one  of  the 
most  perfect  examples  of  Saxon  architecture  in  England,  is  a 
thousand  years  old,  with  an  extremely  ancient  burial-ground 
surrounding  it.  Old  and  grand  St.  Edward's  was  erected  in 
1 350, — 533  years  ago.    Here  Latimer  preached.    How  venerable 


CAMBRIDGE.  311 

and  calm,  interesting  to  admiration,  is  its  little  cemetery,  500 
years  old.  The  Church  of  St.  Mary  the  Great,  begun  in  1478, 
completed  in  15 19,  was  towerless  till  1608  ;  and  in  the  130th 
year  later  arose  the  grand  and  imposing  tower  we  now  behold. 
That  classical  structure,  the  University  Library,  has  230,000 
printed  books  and  3,000  manuscripts,  of  every  language  and 
tongue, — all  this  in  addition  to  the  1 7  other  libraries  of  the  re- 
spective colleges  !  The  great  Geological  Museum  is  excelled  by 
none  in  the  world  ;  St.  Michael's  Church,  built  in  1324,  is  elegant 
now  and  in  grand  repair ;  as  one  has  expressed  it,  "  the  old 
structure  is  to-day  the  most  seemly  and  creditable  in  the  town." 
The  ancient  Round  Church  consecrated  in  n  01,  and  afterwards 
restored,  in  a  sense  is  itself  a  worshipper,  as  well  as  a  place  of 
worship  for  humanity. 

We  must  speak  of  that  curious  fragment  of  architecture  of  the 
twelfth  century,  the  School  of  Pythagoras.  How  quaint,  how 
more  than  ancient  !  And  we  can  only  speak  of —  and,  as  it  were, 
by  the  act  slight  that  other  antiquity  —  Barnwell  Priory,  founded 
in  1 1 12,  by  old  Payne  Peverd,  for  Augustine  canons.  Once  a 
place  of  magnificence,  it  declined,  with  none  to  care  for  it.  At 
length  a  single  department  remained,  and  now  that  has  come  to 
the  ignominious  use  of  a  common  private  stable.  The  Anato- 
mical Museum,  and  the  fine  Botanical  Gardens  of  thirty-eight 
acres,  deserve  mention.  They  shall  have  that  much ;  they  de- 
serve volumes  in  their  praise. 

In  closing  a  list  of  these  objects  of  interest  we  name  only  one 
more,  the  Hobson  Conduit.  This  is  one  of  the  things  of  gen- 
eral interest,  for  the  students  of  the  University  for  200  years 
have  looked  upon  it  time-and-time-again.  It  is  an  octagonal 
structure,  monumental  in  design,  crowned  with  a  cyma-recta 
dome,  and  having  niches  in  each  of  the  principal  sides.  Below 
these  is  a  moulded  octagonal  section,  resting  on  a  square  plain 
base.  It  was  built  in  1610,  and  stands  at  the  city  end  of  an 
artificial  water-course  leading  from  a  place  called  the  Nine 
Wells,  three  miles  distant,  and  supplies  the  city  with  water. 
From  the  Hobson  Conduit  pipes  distribute  it  over  the  place. 
Hobson's  name  is  closely  connected  with  Cambridge.  He  was 
born  here  in  1544,  and  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  person  in 
the  kingdom  who  adopted  the  System  of  letting  out  hoist's  for  hire, 
and  history  says  he  did  a  flourishing  business  with  the  University 

Students.      He    made    it   an    unalterable    rule    that    every    horse 
should  have  an  equal  portion  of  rest  as  well  as  labor,  and  would 

never  let  one  go  out  except   in  its  turn  ;  hence  the  1  clebrated 


312  ENGLAND. 

saying  often  heard  nowadays,  when  more  than  two  hundred 
years  old,  repeated  in  America,  "  Hobson's  choice,  —  this  or 
none."  lie  died  Jan.  i,  1631,  and  though  he  had  attained  the 
patriarchal  age  of  eighty-six,  his  death  is  attributed  to  his  being 
obliged  to  discontinue  his  journey  to  London,  while  the  plague 
was  raging  in  Cambridge,  and  to  this  fact  Milton  alludes  in  the 
two  humorous  epitaphs  he  wrote  on  him. 

There  is  one  matter  of  interest  yet  remaining  to  be  spoken  of, 
and  that  relates  to  the  government  of  the  University.  As  before 
named,  there  are  in  all  seventeen  colleges.  Each  is  an  inde- 
pendent body,  but  is  subject  to  the  code  of  laws  of  the  Uni- 
versity, and  in  their  administration  all  bear  their  share.  The 
principal  officer  of  the  University  is  the  Chancellor.  His  power 
is,  strange  to  say,  only  nominal,  and  is,  at  that,  delegated  to  a 
Vice-Chancellor  elected  annually  from  one  of  the  heads  of  col- 
leges. He  is  considered  for  the  year  the  governor  of  this  literary 
commonwealth.  On  all  official  occasions  he  is  preceded  by 
three  Esquire  Bedells,  each  bearing  a  large  silver  mace.  There 
are  next,  elected  annually,  two  Proctors,  to  attend  to  the  disci- 
pline of  the  students  of  all  the  colleges,  and  assist  in  the  general 
management  of  the  University.  Next  is  the  Public  Orator,  who 
acts  as  the  mouthpiece  on  all  public  occasions.  We  next  have 
what  are  called  Syndices,  who  are  members  of  committees 
chosen  to  transact  all  special  University  business.  There  are 
many  other  minor  officers,  but  those  are  the  more  important. 
The  members  of  the  University  are,  like  our  own,  divided  into 
two  great  orders,  graduates  and  undergraduates,  or  those  who 
have  taken  their  degress,  and  those  who  are  yet  students,  and 
not  graduated. 

Each  college  also  has  its  head,  or,  as  we  term  it,  President. 
At  this  University  they  are  termed  Masters,  or  sometimes,  though 
less  generally,  Heads.  Then,  each  has  more  or  less  members 
who  are  called  Fellows.  These  are  such  as  are  maintained  by 
the  college  revenues.  Next  are  Pensioners ;  these  are  the  ordi- 
nary students,  who  simply  pay  their  own  expenses,  receiving 
no  pecuniary  advantage  from  the  college.  What  are  termed 
Scholars  are  students  who,  having  displayed  superior  attain- 
ments, are  elected  by  examination  to  have  rooms  rent  free, 
payments  of  money,  and  other  advantages,  as  a  good  and  hon- 
orable residence  and  welcome  at  their  Alma  Mater.  Finally  are 
the  Sizars.  These  are  students  of  limited  means,  who  have  their 
commons  free,  and  receive  other  emoluments.  It  may  be  well 
to  mention  that  each  college  has  its  own  peculiar  undergradu- 


CAMBRIDGE.  313 

ate's  gown,  and  that  most  of  the  degrees  and  faculties  are  dis- 
tinguished by  different  costumes.  The  total  number  of  members 
of  the  University  is  about  8,000.  The  University  sends  to  the 
House  of  Commons  two  members,  who  are  chosen  by  the  col- 
lective body  of  the  senate. 

The  revenues  of  the  separate  colleges  are  large,  and  derived 
from  endowments  and  fees  ;  but  those  of  the  University  are  small 
and  rarely  exceed  ^5,500  a  year.  The  students  are  divided 
into  four  classes  :  Noblemen,  who  pay  ^50  caution  money ; 
Fellow-Commoners,  who  pay  ^25,  and  who  receive  their  name 
from  their  privilege  of  dining,  —  having  their  commons  at  the 
table  of  their  fellows;  Pensioners,  who  pay  ^15,  and  form  the 
great  body  of  the  students  not  on  the  foundation ;  and  Sizars, 
who  pay  £  10  and  are  students  whose  poverty  prevents  their 
taking  advantage  of  many  of  the  privileges  of  the  University, 
though  they  are  not  shut  out  from  any  of  its  educational  facili- 
ties. Sizars  were  once  obliged  to  perform  the  most  menial 
offices,  but  for  many  years  this  custom  has  been  abolished.  The 
matriculation  fees  for  these  classes  of  students  are  respectively  as 
follows, ;£  16, £11,  £ 5.  10  j.,  and  ^5.  5  s. 

There  are  various  degrees  of  payment  for  tuition,  according  to 
the  degree  and  condition  of  the  members,  and  slightly  varying 
in  the  several  colleges.  The  annual,  unavoidable  average  ex- 
penses of  an  undergraduate  or  student  are  about  £70,  or  $350. 
There  are  in  the  University  430  fellowships  tenable  for  life,  but 
in  most  cases  conditioned  upon  taking  holy  orders  within  a  given 
period,  and  their  value  varies  from  ^"100  to  £  s°°  per  annum. 
Since  the  days  of  Newton,  Cambridge  has  been  the  chosen  seat 
of  mathematical  science,  but  the  tendency  to  make  it  a  strong- 
hold of  learning  in  all  the  various  branches  has  been  increasing 
of  late  years. 

It  would  be  a  pleasing  work  to  follow  on  and  give  more  ex- 
tended notes  of  this  great  seat  of  learning.  One  while  here  is 
conscious  that  he  is  in  no  common  place,  for  on  this  spot  many 
of  the  mighty  and  really  influential  of  earth  began  their  great 
careers.  No  equal  quantity  of  the  earth's  surface  has  been 
trodden  by  greater  men  than  have  walked  here,  and  reverently 
we  take  our  leave  of  the  famed  place,  well  conscious  of  what  we 
have  not  spoken  of. 

if  1880  gave  the  number  in  college  as   1,399; 
1.409  in  !  total,  2,81 

following  returns,  compiled  by  the  University  Marshals, 
show  the  present  Dumber  of  residents  at  the  various  colleges, 


314 


ENGLAND. 


and  also  the  number  of  unattached  students.     In  the  returns, 
graduates  as  well  as  undergraduates  are  included. 

In  college.      In  lodgings.      Total  resident. 

Trinity 335  340  675 

St.  John's 215  195  410 

Jesus 74  '47  221 

Caius 100  98  198 

Trinity- Hall 53  105  158 

Christ's 7°  80  150 

Pembroke 49  87  136 

Corpus  Christi 79  45  124 

Clare 56  68  124 

King's 68  30  98 

Emanuel 66  27  93 

Magdalen 47  '6  63 

Queen's 41                   19  60 

St.  Catharine's 39  21  60 

St.  Peter's 55                   3  5» 

Downing 30  20  56 

Sidney 4'  12  53 

Non-Ascripti o  162  162 

1,418  1,481  2,899 

We  now  take  our  departure  for  London,  completing  the  round 
trip  which  has  employed  twenty  days  inclusive.  No  like  num- 
ber can  ever  be  filled  with  more  satisfaction,  or  be  replete  with 
a  greater  interest.  The  route  gone  over  is  in  all  respects  one 
that  the  experience  has  proved  admirable  and  to  be  relied  upon, 
as  giving  a  sample  of  the  best  things  that  England  and  Scotland 
have  to  exhibit. 


LONDON.  315 


CHAPTER  XX. 

LONDON  —  WINDSOR  —  STOKE  POGES. 

WE  are  now,  at  10.30  a.m.,  back  in  London,  after  a 
ride  of  two  hours  from  Cambridge.  The  old  charm 
of  London  still  remains.  It  never  would  grow  old. 
We  have  two  days  left,  before  we  start  for  the  continent,  and 
employ  them  to  the  best  advantage  we  can.  The  first,  and  a 
very  natural  act,  is  to  go  to  our  banker's  in  Philpot  Lane,  for 
letters  and  papers  from  home,  and  also  to  obtain  some  of  that, 
the  love  of  which  one  of  old  thought  the  root  of  all  evil.  Next, 
home  to  our  old  lodgings  at  No.  46  Woburn  Place,  for  reading 
documents  and  writing  replies.  Next  we  take  an  omnibus  ride 
down  through  High  Holborn  to  Newgate  Street,  and  alight  near 
St.  Paul's.  It 's  full  time  that  we  go  there  again,  and  to  worship 
in  our  own  way.  Delighted  even  more  than  at  first,  we  find 
ourselves  unable  to  comprehend  it.  First  views  are  never  as 
comprehensive  as  later  ones. 

A  feast  of  contemplation  here,  and  then  a  walk  through  Cheap- 
side,  to  view  once  more  the  Fire  Monument.  It  stands  in  Fish 
Street  and  was  built  to  commemorate  the  great  fire  of  1666.  In 
design  it  is  first  a  platform,  on  which  is  a  pedestal  2 1  feet  square, 
with  a  moulded  base  28  feet  square.  It  has  a  bold  cornice, 
and  all,  to  the  top  of  this,  is  40  feet  high.  On  the  top  of  this 
pedestal  is  a  Roman  Doric  column,  and  above  all  is  a  vase,  or 
urn,  with  what  was  designed  to  represent  a  flame  issuing  out  of 
its  top.  The  flame  is  gilded,  and  the  entire  monument  is  215 
feet  high,  or  but  five  feet  less  than  ours  at  Bunker  Hill.  It  is  so 
located  that,  should  it  be  laid  down  lengthwise  in  a  certain  direc- 
tion, extending  from  its  present  location,  it  would  exactly  reach 
the  spot  at  which  the  fire  originated  in  Pudding  Lane. 

Her  by  the  way  to  remark  that  in    London  the  idea 

—  and  no  bad  one  —  prevails  of  retaining  old  familiar  n 
Philpot  Pane  is  yet  the  cognomen  for  the  place  of  eminent 
bankers.     Mincing  Lane  1    the  seat  for  certain  kinds  of  mer 
chandise  traffic.     Fish  Street  retains  its  name  as  at  the  time  of 


316  ENGLAND. 

the  fire  :  and  Piccadilly,  Chcapside,  Paternoster  Row,  High 
Holborn,  and  Crutched  Friars  are,  to  most  Americans,  even  as 
common  as  household  words. 

The  monument  is  built  of  the  white  Portland  sandstone  ;  and 
inside.  Bunker  Hill  Monument  like,  are  circular  stairs,  345  in 
number,  leading  to  the  iron  gallery  around  on  top  of  the  capital 
of  the  great  column.  This  gallery  was  inclosed  some  years  ago 
with  iron-work  from  the  top  of  the  rail,  up  some  8  feet,  and  cov- 
ered at  the  top,  forming  an  iron  cage  to  prevent  people  from 
throwing  themselves  off  with  suicidal  intentions,  as  was  at  times 
done.  The  great  pedestal  at  the  base  contains  in  its  four  pan- 
els bas-reliefs,  commemorative  of  the  fire  and  events  connected 
with  the  structure's  erection.  The  monument  is  open  daily,  and 
for  a  small  fee  visitors  are  admitted  to  the  gallery  cage,  from 
which  very  commanding  views  are  had  of  the  larger  part  of  Old 
London,  as  well  as  the  River  Thames,  and  many  outlying  places 
in  all  directions.  As  from  the  top  of  the  cathedral,  the  pros- 
pect is  charming,  and  one  is  delighted  as  he  views  and  con- 
templates this  largest  city  of  the  world,  more  than  two  thousand 
years  old,  spread  out  below  him  ;  and  how  as  by  magic  comes 
the  thought  that,  from  this  elevated  position,  kings,  queens, 
the  most  renowned  ones  of  the  old  world  and  the  new,  have, 
as  we  are  doing,  looked  out  upon  and  been  lost  in  contempla- 
tion of  the  scene  ! 

The  monument  was  built  from  designs  furnished  by  Sir 
Christopher  Wren.  It  was  begun  in  16  71,  and  finished  in 
1677.  It  is  justly  esteemed  as  the  noblest  column  in  the  world, 
being  24  feet  higher  than  the  Trajan  Column  at  Rome.  Next 
a  walk  to  London  Bridge,  where,  as  Pepys  would  have  said, 
"by  boat  to  Westminster."  As  stated  in  our  other  remarks  on 
London,  this  is  an  exceedingly  pleasant  way  to  travel  from  one 
part  of  London  to  the  other ;  the  boats  ply  often  and  thousands 
thus  travel.  And  next,  another  tour  through  the  grand  old 
Abbey,  and  about  the  vicinity  of  Parliament  House  and  West- 
minster Bridge  ;  and  so  the  day  was  well  filled  up.  As  at  first, 
very  interesting  are  these  London  rambles. 

Friday,  we  are  ready  to  take  steam-cars  for  the  famed  city  of 

WINDSOR, 

for  which  we  start  at  9  a.  m.  The  ride  of  23  miles  is  through 
well  cultivated  lands.  The  best  of  England  are  these  fine  sub- 
urbs.   For  2,000  years  have  these  same  fields  been  cultivated,  but 


WINDSOR.  317 

they  seem  new  and  as  virgin  soil  to-day.  They  are  not  pover- 
tized  by  continual  takings-off  and  no  returns,  but  manures  are 
applied,  constant  attention  is  paid,  and  grand  results  come. 

At  length  arrived,  we  find  ourselves  in  the  pretty  rural  city, 
with  a  population  of  1 1,769.  It  is  situated  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  Thames,  and  presents  a  very  neat  appearance,  with  a  smart 
enterprising  condition  everywhere  apparent.  The  streets  are 
well  paved  and  lighted,  and  while  there  is  little  that  is  antique 
to  be  seen,  yet  it  is  interesting  from  its  look  of  substantial  and 
finished  appearance.  Here,  at  the  seeming  centre  of  the  place, 
or  at  least  in  the  midst  of  a  solid  population,  is  the  famed 
Windsor  Castle,  and  of  course  this  is  what  we  have  especially 
come  to  see.  It  is  the  occasional  residence  of  the  Queen,  and 
the  buildings  cover  twelve  acres  of  ground,  being  surrounded  by 
a  terrace  on  three  sides,  which  is  2,500  feet  in  length.  They 
stand  in  an  enclosure  called  the  Little  Park,  which  is  four  miles 
in  circumference,  and  connected  on  the  south  by  a  long  and 
remarkably  fine  avenue  of  trees  with  the  Great  Park,  which  is 
18  miles  in  outline ;  and  then  again  west  of  this  is  the  Windsor 
Forest,  having  a  circuit  of  56  miles.  Windsor  has  long  been  a 
seat  of  residence  for  royal  blood,  for  here  resided  the  Saxon 
kings  before  the  Norman  Conquest.  The  present  castle  how- 
ever is  less  ancient,  as  it  was  founded  by  William  the  Conqueror, 
who  died  Sept.  9,  1087.  It  was,  however,  largely  rebuilt  by 
order  of  Edward  III.,  under  the  supervision  of  William  of  Wyke- 
ham,  the  celebrated  Bishop  of  Winchester,  who  was  archi- 
tect of  the  remarkably  elegant  nave  of  his  cathedral,  and  died 
Sept.  24,  1404.  The  antiquity  of  the  castle  is  from  these  dates 
readily  seen  ;  and  we  may  add  that  one  of  the  reasons  which 
induced  us  to  so  often  in  these  articles  to  give  dates  of  the  death 
of  important  individuals,  was  to  enable  the  reader  to  have  data 
as  regards  the  age  of  buildings,  or  of  the  time  of  occurrence  of 
events  narrated.  Various  repairs  were  made  after  that ;  but,  so 
far  as  general  arrangement  and  design  are  concerned,  no  changes 
were  made  for  centuries,  and  they  so  continued  till  1824-8, 
when  new  work  was  done  and  all  put  in  complete  condition 
under  the  superintendence  of  Sir  Jeffrey  Wyatville. 

Visitors  are  freely  admitted  to  the  grounds  and  the  castle,  and 
a  company  is  always  present,  thousands  availing  themselves  of 
the  privilege.  We  enter  through  the  gateway  from  the  city 
thoroughfare,  which,  as  stated,  is  here  very  populous,  and  is  even 
a  commen  ial  part  of  the  pla<  e. 

Not  far  inside  the  grounds,  which  here  are  simply  macadam- 


318  ENGLAND. 

ized,  with  no  tree  or  shrub  or  grass  lawn  present,  we  first  visit 
the  grand  St.  George's  Chapel,  strongly  reminding  one  of  the 
chapel  of  King's  College  at  Cambridge.  The  interior  is  mag- 
nify cut,  with  lofty  columns  and  arches,  splendid  traceried-stone, 
vaulted  ceiling,  a  rich  altar-screen,  and  stall-work  of  oak.  It 
has  no  transepts,  but,  like  the  prototype  named,  is  one  long,  high, 
and  not  over-wide  room. 

Beneath  the  chancel  is  what  is  called  the  Royal  Vault,  in 
which  are  the  remains  of  Henry  VI.,  died  147 1  ;  Edward  IV., 
1483  :  his  queen,  Margaret  of  Anjou,  1481 ;  Henry  VIII.,  1547  ; 
Jane  Seymour,  his  wife,  1537  ;  Charles  I.,  1649  ;  George  III., 
1820;  his  wife,  Charlotte  Sophia,  181 7;  George  IV.,  1830;  his 
daughter,  the  Princess  Charlotte  ;  and  later,  the  Duke  of  Kent, 
the  Duke  of  York,  William  IV.  and  his  queen,  and  other  mem- 
bers of  the  royal  family. 

"  Very  royal  dust  this,  and  in  great  quantity,"  says  an  intense 
and  high  civilization  ;  but,  stript  of  its  outward  insignia,  the  roy- 
alty has  gone,  for  no  more  is  their  dust  respected  by  the  great 
laws  of  nature,  than  is  that  of  the  beggar  who  sues  for  an  hum- 
ble pittance  at  the  church  door.  The  great  destroyer  makes  all 
equal.  Death  is  indeed  a  great  leveller.  The  king  in  his  marble 
sarcophagus  is  a  beggar ;  and  the  beggar,  uncoffined,  it  may  be, 
in  his  common  earth-grave,  is  a  king.  Harriet  Martineau  has 
well  said  :  — 

All  men  are  equal  in  their  birth, 
Heirs  of  the  earth  and  skies ; 

All  men  are  equal  when  that  earth 
Fades  from  their  dying  eyes. 

At  the  rear  of  St.  George's  is  an  ancient  chapel,  but  of  late  refit- 
ted on  the  interior  as  a  mausoleum,  or  place  of  burial,  of  the  late 
Prince  Albert,  and  in  a  style  of  magnificence  rarely  seen  and 
never  excelled.  This  was  done  at  the  expense  and  order  of 
Queen  Victoria.  The  finish  around  the  room,  for  a  quarter  of 
its  great  height,  is  of  very  elaborate  workmanship  of  marbles  of 
various  colors  ;  and  above  this  are  beautiful  Gothic  windows  of 
painted  glass,  the  most  brilliant  and  costly  in  the  kingdom.  The 
room  may  be  40  feet  wide,  75  feet  long,  and  40  feet  high  •  and  at 
one  end  is  the  altar,  and  a  most  elegant  cenotaph  to  the  especial 
memory  of  the  worthy  Prince.  Astonishingly  magnificent  is 
all. 

We  pass  from  the  chapel  to  the  great  Central  Tower.  This 
is  on  a  mound  of  earth,  and  may  be  fifty  feet  in  diameter  and  as 
many  feet  high.     From  the  top  may  be  seen  miles  of  the  sur- 


WINDSOR.  319 

rounding  country,  and  all  is  indescribably  grand.  Off  some 
miles,  and  quietly  nestling,  embowered  in  trees,  is  Newstead  Ab- 
bey, where  Byron  received  his  rudimentary  education  ;  and  in 
another  direction,  five  miles  away,  are  two  objects  of  remarkable 
interest.  One  is  the  famous  Eton  School,  one  of  the  celebrated 
academical  institutions  of  England.  The  other,  to  us  Americans, 
if  the  statement  is  true,  is  a  place  yet  more  interesting,  —  the 
mansion-house,  with  its  ample  grounds,  once  occupied  by  Wil- 
liam Penn,  the  founder  of  Pennsylvania.  Yet  a  mile  beyond  is 
another  spot  of  great  fame  and  renown,  the  burial-place  of  the 
poet  Thomas  Gray ;  and  so  in  sight  is  the  identical  old  church, 
to  which  he  refers  in  his  Elegy  :  — 

Save  that  from  yonder  ivy-mantled  tower, 
The  moping  Owl  does  to  the  Moon  complain 

Of  such  as,  wandering  near  her  secret  bower, 
Molest  her  ancient  solitary  reign. 

A  guide,  stationed  on  the  flattish  roof  of  the  great  tower,  is 
glib  of  tongue,  telling  of  this  and  that  thing  to  be  seen.  As  he 
goes  around  with  his  company  the  entire  circuit  of  the  parapet, 
a  part  of  the  statement  is  that  he  has  been  stationed  here  now  for 
eleven  years.  He  likes  Americans,  he  says,  and  can  tell  them 
the  moment  they  appear  in  view.  He  thinks  them  very  intelli- 
gent ;  but  is  amused,  he  adds,  when  he  asks  them  where  William 
Penn  was  buried,  for  not  a  man  or  a  woman  of  them  knows. 
We  of  course  were  a  source  of  amusement  to  him,  and  were 
pleased  to  be  the  innocent  cause  of  his  mirth.  Anything,  consol- 
ingly we  thought  to  ourselves,  to  break  the  monotony  of  his  life  ; 
and  so  we  were  happy  in  the  thought  of  the  contribution  we  had 
made,  and  so  unwittingly. 

Down  from  this,  and  a  walk  about  the  premises,  to  here  and 
there  look  over  the  walls,  on  the  scenes  outside  and  below.  A 
guide  came  up,  and,  informing  us  that  he  was  one  of  the  appointed 
ones,  we  submitted  ;  and  so  he  became  the  fifth  wheel  to  our 
coach.  We  were,  however,  taken  in,  —  the  first  time  and  the  last 
in  our  journey.  When  we  went  to  the  door  of  the  castle  proper 
we  found  he  must  remain  outside,  or  we  must  pay  for  his  admis- 
sion. We  thought  we  could  find  our  way  to  the  gate  without 
him,  and  so  we  were  rid  of  our  encumbrance,  though  not  with- 
out a  tilt  of  large  words  in  strong  S.ixon. 

Thai  door  passed,  we  were  in  the  waiting-room  ;  and  soon 
our  turn  came,  and  that  of  about  a  dozen  others,  to  make  a  tour 
of  the  place.     Certain  rooms  only  arc  open  to  visitors.     A  por- 


320  ENGLAND. 

tion  of  the  structure  is  devoted  to  the  private  uses  of  the  Queen 
and  the  royal  family  ;  but  the  reception-room,  banquet-hall,  and 
many  semi-private  rooms,  most  elegantly  furnished,  are  open  to 
visitors,  and  the  articles  exhibited  arc  many  of  them  of  great 
value,  having  belonged  to  former  kings  and  queen.  The  guide 
passes  through  these  rooms  with  his  company,  explaining,  as  he 
passes,  that  this  room  is  used  for  such  a  purpose,  or  was  occu- 
pied as  a  sleeping-room  by  King  So-and-So,  or  his  queen,  and  that 
the  furniture  is  now  precisely  as  it  was  at  the  time  of  their  death. 

All  is  very  interesting.  But  never  is  the  situation  or  fact  fully 
comprehended.  To  enjoy  the  sights  and  be  entertained  in 
these  royal  apartments,  once  so  very  private,  and  into  which  no 
common  visitor  was  permitted  to  enter,  is  one  thing ;  but  to  re- 
alize the  great  fact  is  another.  How  strange  that  these  domi- 
cils  of  kings,  and  of  the  high  blue-blood  of  the  great  realm  of 
England,  should  come  to  be  museums,  gratifying  the  curiosity 
of  American  republicans,  the  very  antipodes  of  all  that  is  royal 
or  monarchical. 

After  a  very  pleasant  stay  inside  the  buildings,  we  take  a  look 
at  the  exterior  and  the  grounds.  The  latter,  so  far  as  seen  by  the 
visit  we  made,,  were  simply  bare,  macadamized  squares,  but  just 
outside  the  walls,  on  the  other  sides,  are  the  great  and  elegant 
park-grounds,  arenas,  gardens,  ponds,  waterfalls,  fountains,  fine 
old  tree-shaded  walks ;  and  every  production  that  brain  can 
devise  or  wealth  procure  has  been  lavished  on  these  acres. 
The  building  called  Windsor  Castle  is  a  vast  deal  more  than  a 
single  edifice  ;  and  so,  in  considering  it,  let  not  that  mistake  be 
made.  It  is  composed  of  many  parts,  or  portions,  with  large 
open  courts,  or  squares,  wholly  or  partially  surrounded  by  the 
buildings.  The  latter  are  quite  irregular  in  outline,  and  none  of 
them  are  very  high  ;  but  there  are  a  plenty  of  square  and  round 
towers  of  different  sizes,  with  battlements  around  their  tops,  of 
castle-like  finish,  and  a  variety  of  windows,  to  give  it  the 
castle  look.  If  any  mistake  was  made  by  us  in  advance,  it  was 
to  anticipate  too  compact  a  building,  and  not  enough  of  great 
extent,  —  one  too  old  and  ancient  in  appearance,  and  of  too  high 
an  elevation.  From  the  rise  of  ground  on  which  the  castle 
stands,  the  whole  is  conspicuous  from  many  points  on  the  railway, 
for  miles  distant ;  and  the  view  of  the  granite-like  colored  struct- 
ure —  clean,  large  in  extent,  very  irregular  in  outline  of  upper 
part  as  seen  from  these  points,  the  whole  beautifully  embosomed 
in  thick  foliage  of  trees  —  presents  a  charming  effect.  When 
the  Queen  is  present,  which  is  for  a  few  weeks  at  a  time  at  inter- 


WINDSOR.  321 

vals,  a  large  flag  floats  from  the  top  of  the  great  tower,  and  that 
is  evidence  of  her  royal  presence. 

We  pass  out  of  the  great  gate  and  are  again  in  a  seemingly 
republican  street,  and  things  resume  an  American  aspect  and 
appearance.  Another  dreamish  condition  we  have  been  in,  and 
now  seem  back  on  the  substantial  ground  of  common  humanity 
and,  we  may  add,  common  sense.  We  breathe  freer,  and  as  we 
think  the  whole  scheme  over,  of  the  work  doing  by  John  Bright, 
by  Gladstone,  and  a  host  of  others,  —  when  we  remember  that 
now  for  the  first  time  in  English  history  all  of  the  people,  think, 
talk,  and  act, —  we  know  the  outcome  will  be  good  and  an  ad- 
vance be  made. 

Having  been  alternately  filled  with  admiration  and  disgust,  — 
with  indescribable  charm  and  wonder,  and  with  grand  anticipa- 
tions of  the  good  time  coming,  —  we  say  "Another  dream-day  has 
come  and  is  passing,"  and  we  reluctantly  move  on  and  ruthlessly 
tear  ourselves  away  from  these  bewitching  conditions  and  con- 
templations ;  and  now  at  3  p.  M.  are  ready  for  a  visit  to  the  famed 
Stoke  Poges.  Ever  memorable,  and  to  all  coming  time  it  will  be, 
as  the  spot  made  classic  by  Gray's  "  Elegy  in  a  Country  Church- 
yard." 

At  3.30  p.  m.  we  leave  the  castle  gate,  and  negotiate  for  our 
team  to  Stoke  Pogis,  a  place  of  very  uneuphonious  name,  but 
classic  and  known  the  civilized  world  over.  Teams  for  hire  are 
in  abundance,  and  are  with  their  drivers  in  waiting  for  employ- 
ment. The  appearance  of  a  stranger,  especially  if  an  American, 
is  a  signal  for  an  attack.  We  had  long  since  learned  the  art  of 
management  of  a  case  of  the  kind  at  Montreal  and  Quebec  in 
our  own  country,  and  the  flank  movement  is  to  appear  to  be  in 
want  of  anything  but  a  team.  One  must  work  up  alongside  the 
boundary  line  of  fact  and  truth  ;  and  the  tendency  is  to  at  times 
cross  it  and  get  over  on  the  other  side.  When  taking  most 
notice,  and  doing  best  work  of  selecting,  the  Yankee,  to  ap- 
pearance, never  did  hire  a  team,  and  never  will.  To  make  the 
>t<;ry  short  we  will  say  that  without  a  beating  down  as  regards 
price,  but  to  accommodate  the  driver,  who  was  spoiling  to  carry 
us  for  $3.00,  —  when  at  first  he,  with  all  his  fellows,  made  a  mis- 
take, and  asked  S5.00,  —  we  were  at  length  seated  in  his  team  ; 
and,  while  the  army  of  other  drivers  were  retiring  crestfallen, 
being  trundled  in  the  heavy  English  top-buggy,  top  turned 
back,  and  were  being  grandly  transported  through  the  pretty 
ts  of  Windsor,  out  among  the  line  gardens,  and  half-metro- 
politan, half-suburban    scenery,  on  our  way  to  Stoke. 


322  ENGLAND. 

Never  will  be  forgotten  that  inspiring  ride,  for  all  the  way  it 
was  through  charming  scenery.  At  times  over  broad  thorough- 
fares, in  which  the  refinement  of  a  high  civilization  had  for  500 
years  concentrated  ;  then  into  narrow  lanes  finely  hedged  on 
their  sides,  shaded  by  grand  old  elms  and  ever-fragrant  lindens, 
sweet  in  their  good  foliage  and  new  blossoms  ;  and  so  on  and  on 

—  Dew  scenes  charming,  the  clear  air  invigorating,  thoughts  of 
Old  England  inspiring  —  we,  after  the  ride  of  three  miles,  are 
at  one  of  the  great  seats  of  academical  education  —  the  famed 
Eton  School,  as  well  known,  and  for  centuries  it  has  been,  as 
any  college  at  Cambridge  or  Oxford.  This,  and  that  at  New- 
stead  Abbey,  the  old  London  St.  Paul's,  the  Blue-Coat  School, 
and  the  Westminster  one,  are  a  part  of  England's  history  and 
are  as  renowned  as  the  soil  itself.  What  a  charm  there  is  to  the 
story  of  Eton  and  Rugby  !  The  grounds  are  ample,  well  laid 
out,  and  contain  fine  old  trees  and  shrubbery, —  k\v  or  no  houses 
encroaching,  or  in  the  neighborhood  ;  the  whole  territory  has  a 
very  retired  and  rural  appearance.  There  is  nothing  however  of 
the  very  antique  or  ancient  look  such  as  we  anticipated.  As  a 
whole,  all  was  to  us,  with  our  pre-conceived  idea,  too  modern 
and  new.  The  buildings  are  of  brick.  .They  are  somewhat 
broken  in  outline  and  design,  but  suggested  a  factory-like 
appearance.  How  many  poets,  philosophers,  and  men  in  all  the 
learned  walks  of  life  here  fitted  for  the  great  universities  !  How 
very  renowned  and  sacredly  classic  are  these  grounds  !  We 
would  stop  by  the  way  and  enumerate,  but  must  forbear  and  pass 
on  to  the  more  immediate  object  of  our  tour ;  for  off  in  the  dis- 
tance, charmingly  embowered  in  trees",  is  the  sharp-pointed 
spire  of  the  poetically  immortalized  church,  resting  on  its 
"  ivy-mantled  tower."  The  spire  is  built  of  a  whitish  stone  and 
is  very  sharply  pointed.  How  alluring  and  attractive  it  is,  how 
entrancing  is  the  thought  that  about  it,  and  so  near  us,  is  the 
"  yew  tree's  shade,"  of  which  the  pensive  poet  speaks  ! 

We  ride  on,  and  pass  down  into  the  old  lane  leading  to  Lord 
Taunton's  park  ;  we  go  into  his  carriage-path,  and  how  charm- 
ing the  finish  of  everything,  and  what  sublime  repose  !  We  pass 
along  and  arrive  on  our  left  at  a  pleasant,  home-like  cottage, 
with  a  neatly  kept  yard  in  front.  How  familiar  the  scene  ! 
Honest  old  hollyhocks,  delicate  petunias,  gorgeous  marigolds, 
sweet  mignonette,  and  such  things  as  are  intensely  American, 
and  countryish  at  that,  are  in  profusion.     The  arrival  of  a  team 

—  and  many  come  every  day  —  is  the  signal  for  a  buxom,  rosy- 
cheeked  damsel  to  come  out  of  the  cottage  and  open  the  gate. 


STOKE    POGIS.  323 

No  remarks  by  her.  She  does  not  comprehend  the  scheme. 
All  is  mechanically  done,  and  is  a  result  of  usage  and  every-day 
life.  If  she  thinks  at  all,  it  is  to  wonder  why  the  visitors  come. 
A  lesser  thing  never  comprehends  a  greater.  To  her,  as  to  any 
one  without  a  proper  standard,  as  Wordsworth  said,  — 

A  primrose  by  a  river's  brim, 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more. 

The  fence  across  our  road,  of  which  she  opens  the  gate,  is  of 
open-work,  iron,  plain  paling,  and  encloses  one  side  of  the 
churchyard  of  which  Gray  wrote  :  — 

Where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mouldering  heap, 
Each  in  his  narrow  cell  forever  laid, 

The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep. 

It  is  an  enclosure  of  perhaps  two  acres,  and  simply  fenced  in 
from  a  large  grazing-field.  The  place  is  by  no  means  solitary  in 
appearance,  though  no  house  save  the  cottage  is  near  it,  or  in 
near  view,  for  it  is  out  in  the  full  sunlight,  and  has  for  company 
and  suburbs,  fine  groves,  lawns,  distant  hills,  and  every  accom- 
paniment of  good  rural  character.  As  Whittier  says  of  our  New 
England  burial-grounds,  — 

With  flowers  or  snowflakes  for  its  sod, 

Around  the  seasons  ran, 
And  evermore  the  love  of  God 

Rebuked  the  fear  of  man. 

The  ground  inside  has  a  very  clean  and  well-kept,  though 
not  especially  ancient  look.  There  are  many  gravestones,  and 
but  few  monuments.  A  wide  modern  path,  or  carriage-way, 
leads  from  the  gate  to  the  church  itself.  The  latter,  which  is 
perhaps  500  feet  from  the  gate,  has  a  very  ancient  look.  It  is 
low,  and  built  of  small  flintstones.  The  roof  is  very  high  and 
presents  two  gable-ends,  with  a  large  Gothic  window  in  each  ; 
at  the  other  end  two  gables  are  also  shown,  with  one  some 
higher  than  the  other.  The  tower  is  at  the  extreme  right  of  the 
building,  up  at  the  farther  end,  and  outside  of  and  against  the 
high  part  before  named.  It  is  square,  quite  large  for  its  height, 
having  a  battlement  around  the  top,  and  every  part  of  it  is  so 
1  with  ivy  as  to  expose  no  portion  of  the  stonework  to 
view.  The  spire  above  this  is  very  clean,  and  of  a  whitish  stone. 
A  large  portion  of  the  church  itself  is  covered,  or  mantled,  as 
Gray  expressed  it,  with  ivy ;  and  it  may  here  be  added  that  the 


324  ENGLAND. 

ivy  is  of  the  common,  dark,  substantial-leaved  kind  that  we  so 
commonly  cultivate  in  pots,  or,  in  the  warmer  parts  of  our  coun- 
try, on  the  outside  of  buildings.  Who  can  stand  in  this  place, 
gazing  on  this  ancient  church  as  the  poet  Gray  many  a  time  did, 
and  not  think  of  that  terse  and  expressive  line  of  the  great 
poem,  where  he  speaks  of  the  quietness  of  the  evening  :  — 

And  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds. 

The  famed  "  yew-tree's  shade  "  is  here,  for  at  our  left,  as  we 
pass  up  the  great  path,  or  driveway,  and  near  the  end  of  the 
church  which  is  on  our  right,  with  little  more  than  the  path 
named  between  it  and  the  great  tree,  the  latter  stands  sentinel- 
like, as  it  has  stood  for  a  century,  —  its  dark,  sombre,  fanlike  hor- 
izontal branches  reaching  almost  to  the  ground,  and  throwing 
pall-like  shadows  over  our  way.  The  side  walls  of  the  enclosure 
on  two  sides,  and  near  the  church,  are  of  brick,  and  their  tops 
and  parts  of  their  sides  are  grandly  covered  with  ivy  ;  and  to  the 
right,  in  the  adjoining  lot,  are  trees  and  thick  shrubbery  ;  and  we 
are  again  reminded  of  Whittier,  where  he  says  of  one  of  our 
country  burial-grounds  :  — 

Without  the  wall  a  birch-tree  shows 

Its  drooped  and  tasseled  head  ; 
Within,  a  stag-horned  sumach  grows, 

Fern-leaved,  with  spikes  of  red. 

Under  the  large  window  of  the  left  gable-end,  the  one  nearest 
the  road,  and  up  five  or  more  feet  from  the  ground,  is  a  marble 
slab,  some  fifteen  inches  high  and  two  feet  long,  which  bears  the 
following  inscription  :  — 

Opposite  to  this  stone,  in  the  same  tomb  upon 
which  he  has  so  feelingly  recorded  his  grief  at 
the  loss  of  a  beloved  parent,  are  deposited  the 
remains  of  thomas  gray,  the  author  of  the 
Elegy  written  in  a  Country  Churchyard.  He 
was  buried  August  6,  1771. 

The  mother  was  memorable  for  her  sorrows  and  her  devotion 
to  her  family.  Her  husband  was  selfish,  morose,  passionate, 
and  tyrannical.  The  mother  kept  a  little  china-shop  to  help 
educate  her  son.  He  wrote,  for  her  tombstone  in  this  burial- 
ground,  as  follows  :  — 

Here  sleep  the  remains  of  Dorothy  Gray, 
widow  :  the  careful,  tender  mother  of  many 
children,  one  of  whom  alone  had  the  misfortune 
to  survive  her. 


STOKE    POGIS.  325 

Beautiful  in  all  its  conditions  was  this  churchyard  ;  and  while 
we  were  here  the  birds  sang  merrily,  and  the  sounds  of  summer 
and  the  odor  of  a  new  fresh  vegetation  made  it  a  paradise  com- 
plete. That  quiet  and  repose,  usual  to  a  spot  so  removed  from 
the  "  busy  haunts  of  men,"  this  hamlet  of  the  dead,  seemed  to 
underlie  all,  and  the  "  calm  retreat  "  was  all  we  had  anticipated. 

As  we  pass  out  of  the  gate  and  into  the  outlying  field,  to  the 
left  is  a  stately  stone  monument,  not  long  ago  built  to  the  poet's 
memory.  It  is  of  good  design,  and  on  it  are  befitting  quotations 
from  his  poetry ;  but  after  all  we  were  sorry  to  see  it.  The 
churchyard,  the  church  itself,  the  ivy-mantled  tower,  the  Elegy, 
these  are  his  better  monument.  He  needs  no  other.  It  were 
foolish  to  "  gild  refined  gold  or  paint  the  lily."  It  is  well  to 
say  of  these,  as  was  said  for  the  great  architect  of  St.  Paul's, 
Sir  Christopher  Wren,  "  If  you  seek  his  monument,  look 
around  you." 

It  should  be  stated,  in  passing,  that  another  spot  claims,  and 
with  some  little  show  of  reason,  that  it,  and  not  this,  is  the  fa- 
mous "  country  churchyard  ;  "  but,  after  giving  thought  to  the 
matter,  it  appears  that  till  new  evidence  to  the  contrary  is  pro- 
duced, this  spot  will  have  the  honors. 

As  the  Elegy  has  made  this  place  celebrated,  and  immor- 
talized its  name  as  well  as  that  of  its  composer,  it  may  be  well 
to  say  that  when  Gray  had  completed  it,  he  handed  his  manu- 
script to  friends,  but  he  himself  doubted  its  merits,  and  con- 
scientiously thought  it  weak  and  too  sentimental.  Others, 
however,  saw  its  value,  and,  to  the  author's  astonishment,  so 
great  was  its  fame,  that  on  being  published,  it  was  soon  transla- 
ted into  Greek,  Latin,  Italian,  Portuguese,  French,  German,  and 
even  into  Hebrew. 

He  was  born  in  Cornhill,  London,  Dec.  26,  1716.  On  the 
30th  of  July,  1 771,  while  at  dinner,  he  was  attacked  with  con- 
vulsions, and  died  a  few  days  after,  in  his  55th  year. 

Of  his  memorable  prose  remarks  we  give  but  one  selection, 
which  shows  the  industrious  habits  and  inside  life  of  the  man. 
He  said  :  — 

I  am  persuaded  the  best  way  of  living  is  always  to  have  some- 
thing going  forward.  Happy  are  they  who,  if  they  cannot  do 
anything  greater,  can  create  a  rosebush  or  erect  a  honeysuckle. 

As  we  think  of  this  we  are  reminded  of  the  like  opinion  held 
by  the  great  Daniel  Webster,  who  entertained  so  much  r  ;ard 

for  the  Elegy  that  he  had  portions  of  it  read  to  him  but  a  few 


326  ENGLAND. 

hours  before  his  departure.  When  the  statesman  was  once 
asked  what  was  in  his  opinion  the  best  way  to  enable  one  to  be 
comfortable  during  the  heat  of  summer,  he  replied  :  "  Always 
have  something  to  do.  Keep  busy,  and  you  '11  have  no  time  to 
think  of  the  heat." 

It  is  said  of  General  Wolf,  that  while  he  was  floating  on  the 
River  St.  Lawrence,  on  the  evening  of  Sept.  1 2,  1  759,  —  the  night 
before  his  memorable  attack  on  Quebec,  in  which  on  the  next 
day  he  lost  his  life,  —  he  was  beguiling  an  hour  in  reading  Gray's 
poems,  and  closing  the  book,  said  :  "  I  had  rather  be  the  author 
of  that  poem,  the  Elegy,  than  to  be  the  captor  of  Quebec." 

We  now  turn  our  feet  homeward,  and  as  our  carriage  passes, 
we  take  a  distant  look,  perhaps  half  a  mile  away,  of  the  old 
mansion  and  grounds  once  occupied  by  William  Penn,  or  at 
least  in  which  he  is  said  to  have  resided.  Of  the  proof  of  this 
we  may  say  that  we  have  none,  aside  from  the  assertion  of  the 
guide  stationed  on  the  tower  at  the  castle  and  of  people  who 
reside  in  the  region.  Our  history  of  the  great  man  is  somewhat 
meagre  concerning  his  last  days.  One  of  his  last  official  public 
acts  in  America  was  to  aid  in  making  our  Philadelphia  a  city, 
the  charter  of  which  was  signed  Oct.  28,  1701.  He  soon  after 
returned  to  England,  and  was  for  the  next  succeeding  years  in- 
volved in  much  trouble  on  account  of  his  business  matters  in 
Pennsylvania,  by  reason  of  the  vicious  conduct  of  his  son,  to 
whom  he  had  intrusted  his  affairs,  and  commissioned  to  act  as  his 
representative.  And  then  as  now,  troubles  never  come  singly ; 
for  after  his  already  eventful  life,  at  the  age  of  64  a  new  and 
grievous  trouble  was  in  store  for  him.  At  this  time  died  his 
trusted  friend  and  agent  in  London,  a  Quaker  by  the  name 
of  Ford,  who  left  to  his  executors  false  claims  against  Penn  to 
a  very  large  amount.  Conscious  of  his  integrity,  and  to  avoid 
the  extortion,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  committed  to  the  Fleet 
Prison  in  London.  This  was  in  1  708,  and  he  remained  there 
a  long  time,  till  finally  released  by  his  friends,  who,  as  best  they 
could,  compounded  with  the  creditors.  In  1 7 1 2  he  made  ar- 
rangements with  the  crown  for  a  transfer  of  his  rights  in  Penn- 
sylvania, receiving  from  it  S6o,ooo.  He  soon  after  was  afflicted 
with  paralysis  ;  and  though  living  yet  six  more  years,  and  experi- 
encing other  shocks  which  greatly  impaired  his  vigor  and  facul- 
ties, especially  his  memory  and  power  of  motion,  he  finally  died 
at  Ruscombe,  Berkshire,  July  30,  1718,  at  the  age  of  74,  and 
was  buried  in  Jordan,  a  Quaker  burial-ground,  near  the  village  of 
Chalfont,  in  Buckinghamshire. 


STOKE   POGIS.  327 

In  passing  we  remark  that,  during  the  plague  at  London  in 
1665,  Milton  made  Ruscombe  his  residence,  and  that  here  he 
finished  his  great  poem,  "  Paradise  Lost."  And  who  can  say  how 
much  of  the  coloring  of  the  celebrated  poem  is  not  to  be  attrib- 
uted to  the  trouble  the  people  of  London,  as  well  as  the  great 
bard,  were,  in  consequence  of  the  plague,  experiencing?  This 
parish  is  about  twenty  miles  north  of  Stoke  Pogis,  in  the  county 
of  Buckingham,  as  before  named. 

We  took  our  team  back  for  Windsor,  and  train  from  there  to 
London,  arriving  at  8.30  p.  m.,  —  well  repaid  for  our  labors  of  the 
eventful  day,  if  labor  which  was  a  perpetual  pleasure  can  be  so 
called.  For  the  first  time  in  one's  life,  being  at  and  seeing 
Windsor  Castle  and  the  seat  of  the  great  Elegy  !  A  great  thing 
doing  and  done  !  A  long  breath,  and  no  befitting  remark ;  only 
silence,  thankfulness,  and  contemplation  avail. 


328  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LONDON  —  HAMPTON   COURT  —  ROCHESTER  —  CHATHAM  — 
CANTERBURY. 

SATURDAY,  this  15th  day  of  June,  back  in  London,  we 
employ  the  day  most  pleasantly  in  visiting  the  London 
Docks,  Hyde  Park,  some  of  the  public  gardens,  and  in 
taking  general  rambles  about  the  city.  One  is  seldom  at  a  loss 
in  a  great  city  like  this,  with  thousands  of  facilities  everywhere 
for  entertainment,  how  to  employ  time.  Old  but  ever-new  are 
these  thoroughfares,  the  river,  museums,  and  galleries. 

Sunday  a.  m.  visited  several  of  the  old  churches,  and  made  it 
a  special  business  to  take  a  look  at  as  many  as  possible  of  those 
erected  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren  immediately  after  the  great  fire 
of  1666.  They  are  found  in  great  number  in  the  vicinity  of 
Bow  Church  and  St.  Paul's,  and  some  of  these  interiors  are  very 
elegant.  St.  Stephen's  Walbrook  is,  next  after  the  cathedral,  a 
work  of  much  ingenuity  and  merit.  The  building  is  small,  and 
the  exterior  ordinary  ;  but  the  splendid  interior  is  a  marvel  of 
beauty  and  elegance,  though  more  than  200  years  old. 

Arriving  at  Westminster  Abbey,  we  found  the  great  church 
filled  to  repletion,  and  hardly  standing-room  inside  the  door  ; 
but  with  the  push  peculiar  to  Americans  we  got  in,  and  saw,  but 
could  scarcely  hear,  the  distinguished  Dean  Stanley.  Although  we 
could  not  hear,  yet  we  had  unbounded  satisfaction  in  the  thought 
that  even  in  the  land  of  cathedrals,  and  where  a  deal  of  dull  and 
prosy  preaching  is  done,  the  Dean  with  his  broad  views,  was 
here  preaching  Sunday  after  Sunday,  and  being  listened  to  by 
so  vast  an  assembly.  Next  we  took  a  walk  over  Westminster 
Bridge  to  Southvvark,  and  into  a  church  there,  and  listened  to  a 
twenty-minute  sermon  from  a  young  man  of  good  talent  and 
preaching  abilities.  The  discourse  took  the  negative  form,  the 
subject  being,  What  we  have  not  done  for  the  Lord.  It  was  a 
labored  statement,  enumerating  sins  of  omission  in  great  detail, 
was  very  evangelical,  and  perhaps  did  a  good  work. 


ROCHESTER.  329 

Dined  at  a  restaurant  in  Southwark,  and  at  2  p.  m.  took  steam- 
cars  for 

HAMPTON    COURT, 

and  our  notebook  says,  "We  were  not  only  delighted,  but 
astonished  at  the  place."  As  we  have  said  something  of  the 
place  before,  we  now  simply  add  that  we  found  hundreds  of 
people  in  the  palace,  and  thousands  in  the  fine  grounds.  The 
establishment  is  open  Sundays  as  well  as  week-days,  and  it  is  a 
great  place  of  resort.  1,100  oil-paintings  are  in  the  picture-gal- 
leries ;  and  they  are  of  all  subjects,  and  most  of  them  from  the 
Masters.  Another  part  of  the  palace  of  note  and  interest  is  the 
grand  Hall  of  Henry  VIII.  The  ceiling  is  of  oak,  very  rich  and 
heavy  in  design  and  ornamentation. 

Tradition  has  it  that  Shakespeare's  plays  were  first  acted  in 
this  old  hall.  Portraits  of  Cardinal  YVolsey,  and  of  Henry  VIII. 
and  each  of  his  six  wives  are  on  the  walls.  It  is  said,  and  is 
probably  a  fact,  that  in  this  room  James  I.  held  that  memorable 
conference  with  the  disputants  of  the  Established  Church  and  the 
Puritans,  when  he  made  the  celebrated  remark,  "  No  bishop,  no 
king."     History  has  it  that  he  afterwards  wrote  to  a  friend  :  — 

I  kept  up  such  a  revel  with  the  Puritans  these  two  days  as  was 
never  heard  the  like  ;  where  I  have  peppered  them  as  roundly  as 
ye  have  done  the  Papists.  They  fled  me  from  argument  to  argu- 
ment, without  ever  answering  me  directly,  as  I  was  forced  to  say  to 
them. 

Remained  here  in  this  Eden  till  night,  and  back  to  London. 
Monday  a.  m.  began  our  last  day  of  tramping  over  this  old 
metropolis,  here  and  there  attending  to  little  matters  till  now 
neglected,  now  and  then  happening  in,  just  for  a  few  moments,  to 
look  at  some  grand  old  church,  —  as  St.  Bride's,  and  that  marvel 
of  good  taste  and  construction,  St.  Martin-in-the-Fields,  London  ; 
and  so  with  visits  and  letter-writing  the  day  was  filled  up,  and  all 
preparations  made  to  leave  London  for  France,  but  to  stop  by 
the  way  at  Rochester,  Canterbury,  and  finally  at  that  "jumping- 
off  place,"  Dover. 

Tuesday,  at  9  a.  m  ,  we  took  train  for  good  old 

ROC  II  ESTE  K, 

where  we  arrived  it  ■  i  o\  1<><  k,  after  a  fine  journey  of  two  hours 

in  tlii-.  extreme  southern  part  of  England.     This  is  a  cathedral 

and  quite  old  in  look,  but  clean  to  a  fault  and  very  inter- 


330  ENGLAND. 

esting.  It  has  a  population  of  18,352,  and  is  situated  on  the 
River  Medway,  crossed  by  a  long,  ancient,  stone  bridge  of  1 1 
arches,  erected  in  the  reign  of  King  John,  who  died  1216.  On 
an  abrupt  eminence  near  the  river,  and  on  the  edge  of  the  place, 
are  the  remains  of  old  fortifications,  and  at  a  short  distance  from 
these  is  the  grand  old  castle  with  its  monstrous  square  tower, 
and  a  beautiful  mantling  of  ivy.  The  castle  was  quite  large,  and 
is  a  most  pleasing  structure.  These  grounds  are  some  acres  in 
extent.  They  are  laid  out  in  grand  taste  as  pleasure-grounds 
or  parks,  with  avenues,  lawns,  fine  trees,  retreats,  flower-beds; 
and  every  element  required  for  the  pleasure-seeker  is  here.  The 
high  ground  gave  elegant  views  of  the  surrounding  country,  and 
the  pure,  free,  and  invigorating  air  was  most  charming.  The 
place  has  no  manufactures  of  importance,  but  considerable  trade, 
for  it  supports  a  large  number  of  shops  and  small  stores  ;  one  of 
the  very  best  specimens  of  an  old  English  market-town  is  Roches- 
ter. There  is  some  commerce,  as  it  is  a  port  of  entry,  and  con- 
siderable shipbuilding  is  carried  on.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  and  connected  by  the  bridge,  is  Chatham,  concerning  which 
we  will  give  a  few  facts  later.  The  long,  narrow,  winding  main 
street  of  Rochester  contains  many  antique  buildings,  which  well 
remind  one  of  old  Shrewsbury.  For  a  visit  of  a  few  hours,  this 
one  to  Rochester  amply  repays. 

What  is  of  most  interest  here  is  the  cathedral.  It  has  no  close, 
or  grounds,  but  is  strangely  jammed  in  among  buildings,  in 
behind  those  on  the  main  street,  and  fronts  on  a  street  which  is 
hardly  better  than  a  lane  ;  and  many  of  the  buildings  on  this  lane, 
and  in  fact  up  against  as  it  were  the  cathedral  itself,  are  houses 
of  great  antiquity.  Everything  here  is  England  as  it  was,  but  is 
very  clean  and  tidy.  Nowhere  on  an  equal  territory  have  we 
seen  more  antique  charms  than  in  the  door-neighborhood  of  this 
cathedral.  The  edifice  was  originally  a  priory,  founded  in  604, 
and  rebuilt  about  1076.  It  has  recently  been  restored,  and  is 
in  good  condition.  It  is  in  two  very  distinct  parts  ;  one  is  Nor- 
man, and  is  a  fine  example,  and  the  remainder  is  Early  English. 
It  was  originally  built  by  Gundulph,  its  first  bishop,  soon  after 
the  Norman  Conquest.  Its  length  is  383  feet  and  it  has  a  low 
tower  but  no  spire. 

There  are  many  old  and  antique  monuments,  and  but  for  an 
act  of  Dean  Stanley  of  Westminster  Abbey,  and  a  few  others,  it 
would  have  been  the  last  resting-place  of  the  remains  of  Charles 
Dickens.  In  speaking  of  the  monuments,  the  verger  pointed  to 
a  stone  in  the  pavement,  —  about  three  feet  wide  and  five  feet  or 


CHATHAM.  331 

so  long,  as  now  remembered,  —  which  was  up  some  few  inches 
from  its  resting-place,  and  so  left.  "There,"  said  he,  "is  the 
spot  in  which  Dickens  would  have  been  buried.  The  stone  was 
pried  up  and  an  excavation  being  made  for  building  the  brick 
grave,  when  information  came  that  personal  friends  of  Mr. 
Dickens  had  received  notice  of  the  desire  of  Dean  Stanley,  and 
other  eminent  men,  that  he  should  be  buried  in  Westminster 
Abbey."  The  work  of  tomb-making  ceased,  and  so  Rochester 
was  deprived  of  the  honor  of  being  custodian  of  his  remains. 
Mr.  Dickens's  place  of  residence  was  at  Gad's  Hill,  about  three 
miles  from  Rochester,  and  he  attended  worship  in  this  cathedral. 
His  death  occurred  at  that  place,  June  9,  1870.  The  cathe- 
dral is  small  compared  to  others,  but  it  is  very  interesting  and 
has  an  antiquity  of  look  not  found  in  any  other  cathedral. 

The  bishopric  here  is,  next  after  Canterbury,  which  is  not  far 
away,  the  most  ancient  in  England.  There  is  connected  with 
the  institution  a  cathedral  grammar  school,  founded  by  Henry 
VIII.  in  1542  ;  also  what  is  called  the  Poor  Traveller's  House, 
founded  by  Richard  Watts,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
"for  the  nightly  entertainment  of  six  poor  travellers."  The  old 
church  of  St.  Nicholas  is  a  grand  old  structure,  built  in  1420, 
and  put  in  good  repair  and  restoration  in  1624.  There  are 
also  several  ancient  walls,  gateways,  and  ruins  of  monastic 
institutions. 

CHATHAM, 

as  before  spoken  of,  is  on  the  east  bank  of  the  River  Medway,  at 
its  confluence  with  the  Thames,  and  is  a  large  place,  having  a  pop- 
ulation of  44,135,  including  8,000  dockyard  men  and  soldiers. 
It  includes  the  village  of  Brompton,  just  below  it.  It  is  a  rather 
dirty  and  poorly  built  town,  and,  for  a  thing  unusual,  it  has  many 
old  wooden  buildings.  On  one  side  all  the  works  are  shut  in  by 
strong  fortifications.  Forts  Pitt  and  Clarence  are  on  the  Bromp- 
ton side,  and  on  the  Rochester  side  are  Fort  Gillingham  and 
Upnor  Castle,  which  is  now  used  as  a  menagerie.  The  walk  on 
the  Rochester  side  and  along  the  river,  and  used  as  an  approach 
to  the  park  at  the  base  of  the  rock,  is  a  very  fine  one,  and  has 
on  it  an  ancient  stone  balustrade,  perhaps  once  used  as  a  parapet 
tor  the  bridge.     At  1.40  p.m.  took  train  for 

CANTERBURY. 

We  have  remarked  one  thing  especially  in  relation  to  the  cul 
tivation  of  land,  and  the  agricultural  habits  of  the  people  ;  and  it 


332  ENGLAND. 

is  that  as  we  approach  the  seabord  from  any  part  of  England, 
and  now  particularly  in  the  southern  part,  more  attention  is 
paid  to  the  cultivation  of  garden  vegetables  and  fruit,  than  is  the 
case  in  the  interior.  Soon  after  leaving  London  and  going 
southerly,  as  we  did  towards  Rochester,  we  began  to  meet  with 
fine  gardens  and  fruit-raising,  strongly  reminding  us  of  the 
eastern  shore  of  Massachusetts.  Cherries  are  raised  in  great 
quantities  for  London  market,  and  now,  June  18,  while  they 
are  not  ripe,  are  at  that  state  of  maturity  at  which  they  are  in 
Boston  forced  upon  the  market.  Black  Tartarian  and  the  com- 
mon Ox  Heart,  and  perhaps  the  Eltons,  seem  to  prevail.  We 
have  seen  some  strawberries  in  the  London  markets,  but  none 
that  were  ripe,  or,  at  all  events,  high-colored.  They  had  a  whitish 
look  ;  and  at  the  time  of  writing,  after  the  experience  in  other 
countries,  occupying  the  entire  fruit  season,  we  are  sure  that  in 
fruit- raising  of  all  kinds,  New  England  is  never  excelled,  unless 
we  possibly  except  some  portions  of  the  Rhine  Valley,  where 
plums  abound  ;  but  even  there,  no  advantage  is  had  over  many 
places  in  New  York  State,  as  for  instance  on  Seneca  Lake. 
Roses  are  just  now  at  their  best.  So  far  as  date  or  time  in  the 
season  is  concerned,  they  have  no  advantage  over  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Boston,  or  any  part  of  southern  New  England.  Some 
green  peas  are  in  the  market,  but  are  really  now  only  just  at 
their  best  time  of  blossom.  At  times,  as  we  pass  on  the  railroad, 
we  see  acres  of  them  ;  also  other  vegetables  for  the  supply  of 
markets.  It  has  quite  an  Arlington  or  North  Cambridge  look, 
and  we  are  much  at  home  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  fine  agri- 
cultural district ;  and  we  cannot  but  be  delighted  with  the  indus- 
try of  the  people  here,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  manage 
their  farms.  We  are  at  a  loss  to  know  why  the  idea  is  not  more 
contagious  than  it  appears  to  be.  "Alas  for  poor  Ireland,"  we 
feel  and  say,  —  that  garden  of  the  kingdom,  as  it  might  and 
should  be.  New-Englandize  it,  and  the  Irish  millennium  would 
come. 

After  our  pleasant  ride  of  about  two  hours,  at  3.30  p.  m.  we 
arrive  at  the  famed  seat  of  all  the  Church  of  England,  the  great 
See  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  our  first  impression  is 
a  delight  on  landing  in  this  quiet,  ancient,  neat,  grand- 
paved,  and  in  all  respects  well-cared-for,  aristocratic  town. 
How  quaint  are  many  of  these  venerable  houses,  Chester-like,  with 
projecting  stories, —  all  in  fine  repair  and  good  preservation  ! 

The  place  is  pleasantly  situated  on  the  River  Stow,  56  miles 
from  London,  and  has  a  population  of  16,508.     It  has  no  com- 


CANTERBURY.  333 

mercial  importance,  but  is  one  of  the  principal  markets  of  a  rich 
agricultural  district ;  and  its  pretty  and  inviting  location  has 
made  it  a  favorite  place  of  residence,  as  is  evident  from  the  many 
fine  villas  and  mansion-seats  in  the  vicinity.  It  has  an  ancient 
guildhall,  a  corn  and  hop  exchange,  and  a  Philosophical  Mu- 
seum. The  town  existed  in  the  time  of  the  Romans,  and  many 
of  their  coins  and  remains  have  been  found  in  and  near  the  city. 
It  was  the  capital  of  the  Saxon  Kingdom  of  Kent ;  and  it  was 
here  that  Augustine  baptized  Ethelbert  and  10,000  Saxons 
in  597,  or  nearly  1,300  years  ago.  Augustine  was  the  first 
Archbishop  of  England,  and  died  here  sometime  between  604 
and  614. 

Aside  from  the  cathedral  there  are  several  grand  old  churches 
in  the  city.  One  of  the  most  interesting  is  St.  Martin's,  very  old 
and  antique,  and  full  of  interest.  In  St.  Dunstan's  the  head  of 
Sir  Thomas  More — who  was  executed  July  6,  1535,  and  buried 
here  by  his  daughter  —  was  found  in  1835,  or  just  300  years  after. 
He  was  disloyal  to  the  throne  and  refused  to  acknowledge  the 
royal  supremacy.  On  the  1st  of  July  he  was  brought  to  the  bar 
of  the  Court  of  High  Commission,  charged  with  traitorously 
attempting  to  deprive  the  king  of  his  title  as  Supreme  Head  of 
the  Church.  He  was  condemned  and  returned  to  the  Tower. 
On  the  morning  of  his  execution  he  was  dressed  in  his  most 
elaborate  costume,  preserved  his  composure  to  the  last,  and,  as 
the  fatal  stroke  was  about  to  fall,  signed  for  a  moment's  delay 
while  he  moved  aside  his  beard,  murmuring :  "  Pity  that  should 
be  cut ;  that  has  not  committed  treason." 

There  are  in  Canterbury  various  relics  of  past  ages.  One  of 
the  most  interesting  of  these  is  the  great  St.  Augustine  Monas- 
tery, once  long  used  as  a  brewery,  but  which  was  at  length 
redeemed  from  its  ignominious  use  by  the  munificence  of  Mr. 
Beresford  Hope,  who  purchased  it,  and  presented  it  to  the 
Church  as  a  missionary  college,  himself  also  defraying  all  expen- 
ses of  the  restorations  and  enlargements. 

By  the  liberality  of  Alderman  Simonds  a  field  called  Dane 
John,  containing  a  high  conical  mound,  was  laid  out  as  a  public 
park,  and  pleasant  promenades  have  been  built  for  the  public. 
On  the  top  of  this  fine  hill  has  been  built  a  rural  structure,  of  an 
observatory  nature,  and  from  it  most  commanding  and  splendid 
views  are  had  of  the-  surrounding  country. 

What  of  course  attracts  the  attention  of  visitors  most,  and 
holds  it,  is  the  famed  <  athedral,  —  at  once  the  most  interesting,  all 
things  considered,  of  any  like  structure  in  the  kingdom  ;  for  it 


334  ENGLAND. 

boasts  of  not  only  a  vast  antiquity,  but  of  having  been  at  an 
early  day  a  church  of  so  much  wealth  and  importance,  as  to 
make  it  the  seat  of  the  Church,  and  of  her  Archbishop,  "  the 
primate  of  all  England."  The  chapter  consists  of  the  arch- 
bishop, a  dean,  six  canons,  two  archdeacons,  six  preachers,  and 
five  minor  canons,  besides  the  twelve  choristers.  The  annual 
income  of  the  archbishop  is  $75,000. 

The  foundation  of  the  institution  goes  back  far  into  antiquity  ; 
and  we  leave  the  minor  items  relating  to  its  early  history,  and 
simply  say  that  the  cathedral  had  so  far  advanced,  as  to  be 
ready  for  consecration  in  1130.  It,  as  all  other  cathedrals  did, 
met  with  reverses  and  ill-conditions  innumerable.  Indeed,  so 
varied  is  its  history,  and  so  full  of  great  events,  that  we  are  dis- 
couraged at  the  thought  of  attempting  the  task  of  making  a 
selection.  It  has  been  wonderful  in  its  power  and  influence,  and 
has  in  turn  had  in  its  embrace  men  of  master  minds,  whose 
power  has  been  of  most  decided  character  for  good  or  ill ;  and 
we  are  sorry  to  have  to  say,  that  often  the  latter  has  transcended 
the  former.  A  bishop  of  especial  ability  and  power,  if  but  loyal 
to  the  Church  and  its  doctrines,  as  for  the  time  understood  and 
interpreted,  was  sure  to  be  sooner  or  later  installed  here. 
"  Translated  to  the  See  of  Canterbury  "  is  a  familiar  expression, 
and  has  been  for  centuries.  How  have  the  fortunes  and  con- 
dition of  the  entire  kingdom,  and  the  whole  English-speaking 
world,  been  influenced  by  things  said  and  done  here  !  No  spot 
beneath  the  broad  canopy  of  the  sky  is  so  marked  as  this. 
Here  Puritanism  found  its  great  foes  and  untiring  enemies  ;  and 
when  we  speak  of  this  fact,  or  name  the  word  Puritan,  how 
much  is  involved !  Non-conformist,  Pilgrim  New  England, 
what  she  at  first  was  and  now  is,  —  all  that  is  involved  and 
comprehended  !  Archbishop  of  Canterbury !  Name  but  the 
three  words,  and  what  echoes  are  awakened,  and  wander  through 
the  corridors  of  time  ! 

No  place  is  really  more  intimately  connected  with  Plymouth 
and  Massachusetts  Bay  than  is  this.  The  invisible  telegraph  of 
momentous  events  —  a  continuous  unbroken  line  —  exists,  and  is 
as  real  as  the  material  cable  that  reposes  on  the  floor  of  the  sea  ; 
and  when  all  of  them  shall  have  become  extinct,  this,  forever 
revivified  and  renewed,  will  increase  in  power  and  be  an  instru- 
ment for  good,  "  till  the  angel,  standing  with  one  foot  on  the 
land  and  the  other  on  the  sea,  shall  declare  that  time  shall 
be  no  more." 

Not  long  before  the  accession  of  Queen  Victoria  to  the  throne 


CANTERBURY.  335 

in  1838,  a  most  thorough  repair  of  the  cathedral  was  made,  and 
it  is  now  one  of  the  most  perfect  in  England. 

In  our  examinations  of  these  great  structures,  admiring  each 
of  them,  we  have  at  times  tried  to  decide  which  one  of  all  we 
would,  if  the  thing  were  possible,  transport  to  America.  At 
times  the  elegant  interior  of  Winchester,  with  its  fine  long 
nave,  is  in  the  front  rank.  Then  appears  the  great  Lincoln, 
splendid  within  and  without.  Next,  these  are  crowded  aside  by 
imperial  York  Minster.  Then  comes  antique  but  sublime  old 
Durham;  how  can  we  part  companionship  with  that?  or  Salis- 
bury, with  its  commanding  spire,  404  feet  high,  and  its  rich 
transept  end  ?  Next,  rich  gem-bedecked  Ely  comes  well  up  in 
front.  Finally  we  make  one  herculean  move,  and,  as  the  waking 
giant  shakes  his  locks  and  spreads  his  arms,  we  make  an  effort 
to  be  unsympathetic  ;  and  ignoring  these  grand  old  friends,  all  of 
whom  with  charms  peculiar  to  themselves  have  wooed  and  capti- 
vated us,  —  leaving  them,  a  noble  army  of  martyrs,  —  we  say 
Canterbury.  The  effort  has  cost  us  much  sacrifice.  "  Not  that 
we  love  Caesar  less,  but  that  we  love  Rome  more."  The  grounds 
about  the  structure  are  very  fine  and  inviting,  though  they  do 
not  possess  those  charms  that  exist  at  Salisbury  and  Peterboro. 

The  cathedral  was  founded  by  Archbishop  Lanfranc,  and 
enlarged  and  consecrated  by  Archbishop  Corbel  in  1 1 30,  in 
presence  of  Henry  I.  of  England,  David,  king  of  Scotland,  and  all 
the  bishops  of  England.  The  roof,  or  exterior  covering,  of  the 
stone  vaulting  is  of  wood,  and  was  seriously  troubled  by  fire  in 
1 1 74,  when  the  choir  and  other  portions  of  the  interior  were 
greatly  damaged ;  and  as  late  as  Sept.  3,  1872,  a  portion  of  the 
roof,  150  feet  in  length,  was  badly  damaged  by  fire  and  water, 
but  all  is  now  in  perfect  condition  of  repair.  The  cathedral  is 
in  extreme  length  514  feet,  and  is  159  feet  wide  at  the  transepts. 
It  has  a  magnificent  central  tower,  of  elaborate  decorations, 
which  is  285  feet  high  ;  also  two  very  beautiful  western  towers 
terminating  in  embattlements  and  lofty  turrets.  The  stone  is  of 
a  dark-gray  tint,  and  the  structure  has  a  sublime  and  imposing 
appearance.  The  interior  is  indescribably  grand,  and  has  one 
ial  peculiarity,  which  is  that  the  choir,  or  head  of  the  cross, — 
which  is  the  plan  of  the  cathedral,  —  is  elevated  some  seven  feet 
or  so  above  the  floor  of  the  nave,  and  is  reached  by  a  flight 
of  marble  steps.  The  arrangement,  if  anything,  adds  to  the 
grand  e(&<  t. 

Beneath   is  the  crypt,  or  basement,  which  is  common  to  but 
few  cathedrals.     Here  are  very  ancient  columns,  and  a  solid 


336  ENGLAND. 

stone,  groined  ceiling ;  all  is  but  dimly  lighted,  and  was  once  a 
chapel  in  which  monks  worshipped.  A  painful  silence  now 
reigns  throughout  ;  and  all  is  still  and  solemn,  save  as  the  foot- 
falls on  its  pavements,  or  our  voice,  —  or  it  may  be  sounds  from 
the  great  cathedral  lloor  coming  down  through  the  stone  vault- 
ing, subdued  and  subduing,  —  break  the  spell.  Except  for  these, 
a  silence  of  the  tomb  prevails.  More  than  half  a  thousand  years 
are  gone  since  here  the  fumes  6f  incense  and  the  sound 
of  papal  prayers  and  the  repetition  of  the  Mass  were  begun. 
Centuries  now  are  passed  since  all  ceased.  Dust  of  many  pious 
ones  has  been  here  laid  in  its  last  resting-place,  and  "  after 
life's  fitful  fever  they  sleep  well."  Nations  have  risen  since  then, 
and  kingdoms  have  been  transformed.  The  great  realm  of 
thought  has  been  enlarged  and  extended,  and  humanity  has 
become  enlightened  and  advanced.  Then,  monk  and  nun  were 
the  rule,  but  they  are  not  now  even  the  exception.  All  are  forever 
gone,  and  a  hard  theology,  one  anticipating  an  everlasting  triumph 
of  evil  over  good  ;  penance,  tormenting  the  body  for  the  good 
of  the  soul,  —  or,  later  advanced  tenet,  that  of  tormenting  the 
mind  for  the  soul's  good,  —  are  discounted.  Personal  account- 
ability, divine  sovereignty,  the  Golden  Rule,  progress  never 
ending  for  the  individual  and  the  race,  are  in  the  ascendant ; 
and  so  crypt  and  dark  room  are  deserted,  and  only  tell  of 
human  life  and  endeavor  as  they  were. 

This  cathedral  has  many  monuments,  and  well  it  may  have. 
How  long  is  her  line  of  bishops  and  illustrious  men  !  A  his- 
tory of  700  and  more  years  of  active  work,  must  have  made 
conditions  of  note  and  renown  ;  but  we  leave  these  monuments 
as  we  must,  and  say  a  few  things  of  two  or  three  of  the  noted 
ones  who  here  kept  holy  time.  Every  reader  of  history  has 
anticipated  the  name  we  speak  of  first,  Thomas  a  Becket. 
At  the  north  cross-aisle,  or  transept,  is  a  small  alcove,  or  chapel, 
on  the  right  side  of  which  is  a  table-altar.  On  the  29th  of 
December,  1 1  70,  but  forty  years  after  the  cathedral's  consecra- 
tion, and  more  than  700  years  ago,  as  he  was  kneeling  at  this 
altar,  he  was  assassinated,  killed  on  the  spot ;  and  now  a  small 
place,  six  inches  square,  is  shown  in  the  floor,  where  some  of 
his  blood  fell.  The  stone  was  long  ago  cut  out  and  sent  to 
Rome. 

Eew  mortals  have  had  a  history  as  eventful  as  his.  Born  in 
London,  in  the  olden  time  of  1 1 17,  he  was  educated,  and  finally 
appointed  Archdeacon  of  Canterbury ;  and,  in  turn,  prebend  of 
Lincoln,  and  of  St.  Paul's  at  London.     Nothing  short  of  distin- 


CANTERBURY.  337 

guished  abilities  and  intellect  could  have  brought  such  honored 
conditions  as  these. 

When  at  the  age  of  forty-one,  in  1158,  Henry  II.  made  him 
Chancellor  of  England.  So  powerful  was  he  in  influence  over 
the  King,  that  in  1162,  on  the  death  of  Theobold  the  Bishop  of 
Canterbury,  the  King  pressed  his  election  to  this  See.  He  was 
appointed,  and  so  was  the  first  native  Englishman  who  held  the 
archbishopric  of  Canterbury.  He  was  first  ordained  a  priest, 
and  then  made  Primate  of  all  England.  He  resigned  his  office 
of  Chancellor  against  the  desires  of  the  king,  and  in  retaliation 
was  deprived  of  his  archdeaconship  which  he  wished  to  retain 
along  with  his  archbishopric.  He  at  once  began  to  exercise 
great  authority.  He  became  reserved  and  austere,  and  soon 
acquired  great  renown  for  his  sturdy  defence  of  the  prerogatives 
of  the  Church  against  the  threatened  encroachments  of  the 
crown  and  the  nobility. 

In  1 164  he  strongly  opposed  the  famous  constitutions  pre- 
sented by  Clarendon,  and  bitter  feuds  arose  between  him  and 
the  King.  The  hostility  of  the  King  to  him  was  great,  and  his 
persecutions  increased.  He  became  exceedingly  unpopular 
with  the  nobility,  and  at  length  fled  from  England.  He  spent 
nearly  two  years  in  an  abbey  in  Burgundy,  and  was  encouraged 
by  the  Pope,  who,  refusing  to  accept  his  resignation  of  the  See 
of  Canterbury,  reconfirmed  him  as  Primate  of  all  England,  ex- 
cept the  See  of  York. 

The  strife  between  King  Henry  and  Becket  increased,  but 
after  a  long  continuance  of  the  quarrel,  in  1170a  reconciliation 
took  place,  and  on  his  return  to  England  the  people  gave  him 
an  enthusiastic  reception ;  but  he  soon  revived  his  old  troubles 
by  publishing  the  suspension  of  the  Archbishop  of  York,  and  the 
King  taunted  his  attendants  for  remissness  in  revenging  the 
overbearing  prelate.  This  excited  four  barons  of  the  court, 
Reginald  Eitzurse,  William  de  Tracy,  Hugh  de  Moreville  and 
Richard  Brito,  who  undertook  the  work  of  his  assassination. 
Dec.  28,  1 1 70,  they  met  at  the  castle  of  Ranulth  de  Broc,  near 
Canterbury,  accompanied  by  a  body  of  armed  men.  The  next 
day  they  went  to  the  Archbishop's  palace  and  there  had  a 
stormy  interview,  and  on  the  same  evening  invaded  the  cathe- 
dra] at  vesper  service.  Becket  prevented  all  opposition  to  their 
ingress  by  declining,  as  he  said,  "to  convert  a  church  into  a 
castle,"  and  implored  the  assailants  to  spare  everybody  but  him- 
self. They  attempted  to  <lra^r  him  from  tin-  <  hun  h,  so  as  not 
to  desecrate  it  by  bloodshed  ;  but  while  manfully  wrestling  with 


338  ENGLAND. 

De  Tracy,  Becket  received  a  blow,  inflicting  a  slight  wound, 
which,  falling  obliquely,  broke  the  arm  of  his  cross-bearer, 
Edward  Grimes.  The  Archbishop  then  kneeled  at  the  altar, 
when  the  three  other  barons  gave  him  the  death  blow,  and  his 
brains  were  scattered  on  the  floor.  The  cathedral  was  then 
ordered  by  the  Pope  to  be  closed  for  one  year. 

In  1 172  Alexander  III.  canonized  Becket  as  St.  Thomas  of 
Canterbury.  In  1221  his  remains  were  deposited  by  Henry 
III.  in  a  rich  shrine,  which  became  a  great  resort  for  pilgrims. 

After  the  Reformation,  Henry  VIII.  despoiled  the  shrine  of  its 
treasures  of  silver  and  gold,  which  were  of  incredible  value  ;  and 
he  had  the  saint's  name  stricken  from  the  calendar,  and  his 
bones  burnt  to  ashes  and  scattered.  The  shrine  was  in  the 
cathedral,  back  of  the  high  altar,  and  now  its  only  traces  are  in 
the  marble  floor  where  it  rested,  and  in  the  worn  and  sunken 
line  encircling  it,  made  by  the  feet  and  knees  of  pilgrims  who 
for  three  centuries  had  there  paid  tribute. 

As  we  stood  there  we  could  in  imagination  see  the  incessant  train 
coming  in  with  demure  look,  and  with  a  pious  reverence  kneel 
and  offer  their  humble  petition  for  the  repose  of  his  soul  and  for 
the  prosperity  of  the  religion  he  defended.  Fearfully  in  earnest 
were  these  honest  but  superstitious  ones,  and  so  was  Henry  VIII. 
when  he  said  to  the  enslaving  service,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go 
and  no  farther,  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed." 
What  determination,  what  intrepidity,  were  requisite  for  the  in- 
auguration of  reform  like  this  !  What  master-work  to  do  ! 
Becket  and  his  adherents  meant  well,  but  they  were  superstitious 
and  blind  to  truth  and  fact.  Henry  VIII.  did  a  great  work, 
but  when  he  did  it  he  also  did  unchristian  things.  So  of  Queen 
Mary,  when  to  the  stake  must  go  Rogers  and  Hooper,  Cran- 
mer,  Latimer,  and  Ridley.  We  cannot  well  stop  there.  Puri- 
tanism established,  somebody  was  responsible  for  the  per- 
secutions of  Roger  Williams,  of  Marmaduke  Stevenson,  and 
others.  Persecution  for  opinion's  sake  is  not  yet  done,  but 
"  out  of  the  bitter  comes  forth  the  sweet."  Becket  and  his 
coadjutors,  the  kings  and  queens  of  England,  Boston  ministers 
and  judges  of  old,  form  one  long  connected  chain  of  defenders 
of  the  faith,  —  not  always  of  clear  vision,  but  outside  of  them- 
selves governed  and  overruled  ;  and  so,  by  the  work  done,  hu- 
manity steps  up  higher,  and  walks  on  towards  the  perfection 
attainable,  and  in  the  end  sure  to  be  attained. 

That  work,  done  in  the  time  of  Becket,  was  the  transition 
period  from  the  Papal  Church   to  the  Protestant.     Our   next 


CANTERBURY.  339 

man  of  renown  was  the  noted  Archbishop  Laud  ;  and  his  admin- 
istration was  the  transition  period,  from  intense  formality  and 
ritualism,  into  a  somewhat  similar  form  of  Christian  worship  and 
work,  out  of  which  has  come  our  New  England's  existence  and 
element  and  life,  —  and  so,  indirectly,  our  Great  West,  which  in 
its  early  days  New  England  people  and  customs  did  so  much 
to  mould  and  establish. 

William  Laud  was  born  at  Reading  in  England,  Oct.  7,  1573, 
but  eighteen  years  after  the  death  of  the  martyrs  at  Oxford. 
He  nursed  from  his  mother's  breast  the  spirit  of  the  time, 
or,  like  Laurence  Sterne's  Tristram  Shandy,  was  able  to  date 
his  nature  and  inclinations  to  acting  and  influencing  elements 
at  a  day  the  very  earliest  in  his  history.  He  was  educated  at 
St.  John's  College,  Oxford  ;  obtained  his  fellowship  in  1593, 
clerical  orders  in  1601  ;  and  in  1605  became  chaplain  to  Charles, 
Lord  Mountjoy,  Earl  of  Devonshire  ;  and  here,  he  showed  plia- 
bility of  conscience  which  was  ever  a  distinguishing  feature  of 
his  life,  for  he  was  willing  to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony 
between  the  Earl  and  Lady  Rich,  whose  first  husband  was  still 
living. 

In  1608  he  was  made  bishop  of  Nene,  being  then  but  thirty- 
five  years  of  age.  In  16  n  he  was  president  of  the  college  at 
which  he  was  educated.  In  1616  he  was  Dean  of  Gloucester; 
was  a  prebendary  of  Westminster  in  1620,  and  Bishop  of  St. 
David's  in  1621.  In  1624  he  was  member  of  the  Court  of 
High  Commission;  in  1626,  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells,  and  in 
1628  Bishop  of  London;  and  now  begins  his  great  life-work, 
for  he  became  confidential  adviser  of  Charles  I.  in  ecclesiastical 
affairs.  Succeeding  Buckingham  in  the  royal  favor  he  began 
to  play  important  parts  in  politics,  and  his  first  object  and  step 
was  to  force  Puritans,  and  all  Dissenters  from  the  Established 
Church,  into  conformity.     Macau  lay  says  :  — 

Under  this  direction  every  corner  of  the  realm  was  subjected  to 
a  constant  minute  inspection.  Every  little  congregation  of  Separ- 
atists was  tracked  out  and  broken  up.  Even  the  devotion  of  pri- 
vate families  could  not  escape  the  vigilance  of  his  spies.  Such 
fear  did  his  rigor  inspire,  that  the  deadly  hatred  of  the  Church, 
which  festered  in  innumerable  bosoms,  was  generally  disguised 
under  an  outward  show  of  conformity. 

In  1628  Robert  Leighton,  a  Scottish  prelate,  published  a 
book,  "  Sion's  Plea  against  the  Prelacy."  At  the  instigation  of 
Laud  he  was  in  1C30  brought  before  the  Star  Chamber,  con- 


340  ENGLAND. 

demned  to  pay  a  fine  of  ^10,000  ;  and  he  was  twice  publicly 
whipped  and  pilloried  in  Chcapside,  London,  had  his  cars  cut 
off.  his  nostrils  split  open,  and  his  cheeks  branded  with  S.  S. 
(Sower  "i"  Sedition),  and  he  was  incarcerated  ten  years  in  the 
Fleet  Prison. 

Flattered  with  success,  Laud,  being  present  at  the  corona- 
tion of  Charles  in  Scotland,  urged  the  forced  establishment  of 
Episcopacy  and  uniformity  in  that  country,  which  resulted  in 
revolt;  and,  contrary  to  the  ambitious  and  narrow-minded 
Bishop's  anticipation,  ended  in  the  adoption  of  the  National 
Covenant,  and  so  Presbyterianism  triumphed.  On  his  return 
from  the  ceremonies  of  coronation,  and  doubtless  in  aid  of  their 
enterprise  to  "  kill  out  Puritanism"  and  to  "  harry  the  Puritans 
out  of  the  land,"  he  was  appointed  to  the  See  of  Canterbury. 
He  became  a  politician  in  the  more  odious  sense  of  that  word, 
and  so  worked  himself  in  as  one  of  the  committee  of  the  king's 
revenue,  and  in  1634  he  became  a  commissioner  of  the  treas- 
ury ;  and  soon  after,  and  finally,  was  made  Censor  of  the  Press 
under  decree  of  the  Star  Chamber  in  1637. 

He  was  powerful,  overbearing,  and  injudicious,  and  the  pub- 
lic odium  soon  manifested  itself  largely  against  him.  The  Long 
Parliament  in  1640,  impeached  him  for  high  treason,  and  he 
was  committed  to  the  Tower.  After  an  imprisonment  of  more 
than  three  years  he  was  tried  and  condemned,  —  and,  as  now 
thought,  according  to  the  letter  of  the  law,  illegally,  —  and  was  exe- 
cuted in  the  Tower,  Jan.  *io,  1645,  at  tne  aSe  of  seventy-two. 

Of  the  many  other  noted  and  eminent  men  of  Canterbury's 
almost  interminable  list,  we  take  but  one,  and  that  was  the 
second  Protestant  bishop,  Matthew  Parker.  He  was  eminent 
as  a  churchman,  as  much  so  as  Laud,  but  was  a  man  of  good 
judgment,  and  more  than  any  other  person  gave  the  character 
of  worship  which  the  Established  Church  of  England  now  has. 
He  was  born  at  Norwich,  Aug.  6,  1504,  and  entered  Corpus 
Christi  College  at  Cambridge  in  1520;  in  1533  was  licensed 
to  preach,  and  soon  was  made  Chaplain  to  Anne  Boleyn.  He 
was  Dean  of  Clare  College  in  1535  ;  chaplain  to  Henry  VIII. 
in  1537  ;  Master  of  Corpus  Christi  College  in  1544  :  and  Dean 
of  Lincoln  Cathedral  in  1552.  Having  married  in  1547,  on 
the  accession  of  Queen  Mary  he  was  deprived  of  his  office, 
and  obliged  to  remain  in  obscurity.  He  then  translated  the 
Psalms  into  English  verse,  and  wrote  a  treatise  entitled  "A 
Defense  of  Priests'  Marriages." 

His  fortune  at  length  turned,  for  on  the  accession  of  Queen 


CANTERBURY.  341 

Elizabeth,  and  a  reform  in  the  religion,  he  was  chosen  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  and  Dec.  17,  1559,  was  consecrated  in 
the  chapel  at  Lambeth.  He  was  successful  in  dispelling  the 
Queen's  lingering  affection  for  images,  and  he  filled  all  the 
vacant  Sees  with  decided  Protestants,  and  did  all  in  his  power 
to  render  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  church  uniform.  He 
founded  schools,  made  valuable  presents  to  the  colleges  at 
Cambridge,  was  one  of  the  first  chosen  to  review  the  Book  of 
Common  Prayer  ;  and  was  employed  in  the  revision  of  the 
Bishop's  Bible,  which  passed  under  his  inspection,  and  was  pub- 
lished at  his  own  expense  in  1568.  He  was  the  author  of  sev- 
eral other  standard  works,  and  at  last,  after  a  life  of  remarkable 
activity  and  usefulness,  he  died  at  London,  May  17,  1575,  at 
the  age  of  seventy-one,  deeply  lamented. 

1575  !  200  years  before  the  declaration  of  our  American 
Independence,  and  almost  half  a  century  before  the  Pilgrims 
set  sail  for  America  !  He  did  much  towards  establishing  Pro- 
testantism, and  making  Puritanism  possible ;  and  so  he  was  the 
John  the  Baptist  to  prepare  for  the  bad  work  of  Laud  and  his 
coadjutors,  —  which  caused  the  persecution  of  the  non-conform- 
ists, and,  indirectly,  the  emigration  to  the  New  World,  and  the 
great  good  which  is  its  outcome.  Laud,  thunder-storm-like, 
induced  a  clearer  theologic  atmosphere. 

There  is  a  thing  yet  untouched  we  would  speak  of,  but  must 
forbear  a  long  recital.  In  speaking  of  the  crypt,  we  strangely 
forgot  to  mention  that,  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  there 
were  a  company  of  French  silk-weavers,  who  were  driven  from 
their  native  land,  and  sought  refuge  in  England.  They  were 
called  Walloons,  and  the  crypt  of  the  cathedral  was  granted  them 
by  the  Queen  as  a  place  of  worship.  In  the  time  of  Charles  II., 
who  died  in  1688,  they  were  the  most  noted  silk- weavers  in 
England.  The  blood  was  strong ;  and,  strange  to  tell,  to  this 
day  the  humble  remnant,  after  the  lapse  of  centuries,  still  (hum 
and  use  this  room  as  their  place  of  worship.  There  is  a  tinge  of 
melancholy  that  comes  over  one  as  he  thinks  of  their  devotion 
and  humble  sanctuary,  but  it  is  Sabbath  home  to  them,  and  so 
i.->  at  once  cathedral  and  gate  of  heaven. 

At  the  Altar  of  Martyrdom,  where  lie.  kel  died,  in  1170  was 
thatappallii  of  riot,  distress,  and  death.    129  years 

and  how  changed  I     Then  was  gathered  another  crowd,  and  all 

.and  lite,  lor  Kdward   1.  and  Margaret  were 

there  to  be  married  in  1 299. 
On  the  8th  of  June,  1376,  great  commotion  was  in  the  Epis- 


342  ENGLAND. 

copal  Palace  near  by,  for  there  lay  in  the  agonies  of  death  their 
giv.u  grandson,  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  who  was  so  called 
from  the  color  of  his  armor.  Two  days  after  he  was  buried  in 
the  cathedra]  ;  and  now,  after  500  years,  we  look  upon  his  effigy 
in  bronze,  old  and  black,  but  highly  wrought,  and  once  and  for 
year-  oi  rich  gilt.  Above  his  tomb  are  suspended  the  helm, 
surcoat,  shield,  and  gauntlet  he  wore  on  the  held  of  Cressy.  In 
this  cathedral  is  the  ancient  chair  in  which  all  the  old  kings  of 
Kent  were  crowned. 

And  so  we  might  go  on;  and  when  many  pages  had  been 
written,  the  door  would  but  be  opened,  and  an  inexhaustible 
store  of  things  of  inexpressible  interest  present  themselves,  and 
be  in  waiting  for  consideration. 

We  must  now  begin  to  think  of  parting  companionship  with 
these  cathedral  towns,  for  we  are  to  move  on  yet  more  southerly 
till  Dover  is  reached  ;  and  so  for  a  time  is  to  end  our  good  stay 
in  historic  Old  England,  the  mother  country  of  us  all.  We  con- 
fess to  a  feeling  of  dislike,  and  at  the  same  time  to  a  conscious- 
ness of  grand  satisfaction  of  what  we  have  enjoyed,  and  so  that 
feeling,  if  permitted  to  prevail,  would  neutralize  the  anticipation 
of  good  to  come. 

We  now,  at  6  p.  M.,  take  cars  for  Dover.  The  ride  is  like  that 
before  it,  very  much  like  one  over  lands  in  New  England,  on 
the  South  Shore  Road,  towards  Hingham  and  Cohasset.  There 
are  rocks,  and  even  ledges,  increasing  as  we  advance.  There  are 
grand  fields  of  hops,  an  incredible  number  of  them,  and  gardens 
with  the  new  vegetables  of  all  kinds,  as  in  our  Old  Colony  at 
that  time  of  the  year. 

Now  at  7.30,  after  a  ride  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  we  come  in 
sight  of  the  bluffs  and  chalk-cliffs  and  abrupt  hills  —  a  wonder 
to  us  indeed.     "  How  extensive,  how  white  !  "  we  say. 

And  now  comes  the  well-known  odor  of  the  heavily  charged 
salt  air  of  the  sea.  Cohasset,  Nantasket,  or  Nahant,  even  at 
their  best,  could  do  no  better.  We  are  as  it  were  in  a  new  world 
of  observation,  feeling,  and  thought ;  and  on  landing  there  is 
opened  to  us  a  vast  panorama  of  sea  view,  of  high  life  and  ani- 
mation, a  new  paradise,  —  not  an  old  one  regained,  for  we  never 
at  home  nor  abroad  had  one  like  this  to  lose. 


DOVER.  343 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

DOVER BRIGHTON  —  CALAIS. 

ARRIVED  at  7.30  p.  m.  and  took  room  at  Hotel  de  Paris 
—  a  high-sounding  name ;  but  not  very  Parisian  was 
the  institution  ;  however,  it  was  neat  and  every  way  good 
and  worthy.  Took  tea,  and  then  a  walk  out.  As  before  inti- 
mated, we  are  now  in  a  southern  border-town,  and  the  waters  of 
the  Channel  wash  its  shore. 

Dover  is  62  miles  southeast  of  London,  and  21  miles  north- 
west from  the  coast  of  France,  being  England's  nearest  seaport. 
The  population  is  28,270  of  permanent  residents,  but  it  varies 
by  reason  of  its  large  number  of  hotel  boarders.  It  is  situated 
on  a  small  but  beautiful  bay,  and  is  of  an  amphitheatre  form, 
between  lofty  cliffs,  and  alongshore  by  the  valley  of  a  small 
river  called  the  Dour.  The  older  portion  is  rather  poorly  and 
irregularly  built,  and  is  principally  on  one  street  that  runs  par- 
allel to  the  river,  or  valley,  and  having  hills  as  a  background. 
The  newer  part  is  along  the  shore  of  the  bay,  and  consists 
of  watering-place  hotels,  boarding-houses,  and  aristocratic  pri- 
vate residences,  many  of  which  have  fine  grounds  about  them. 
These  continue  for  a  mile  or  more,  and  at  the  lower  end  termi- 
nate at  lofty  chalk-cliffs  of  a  stupendous  height,  —  producing  a 
grand  and  unusual  appearance,  being  very  precipitous  and  of  a 
chalky  whiteness.  In  front  of  the  buildings  named  is  a  grand 
watering-place  promenade-avenue,  in  front  of  which,  the  entire 
length,  is  a  pebbly  beach,  and  this  is  washed  by  the  waters  of  the 
bay.  Thousands  of  people,  old  and  young,  were  here,  and  much 
of  gay  life  and  fashion  displayed.  Never  will  be  lost  sight  of 
md  entertainment  we  thus  had,  and  which  was  SO  unex- 
is.     The  harbor  consists  of  three  basins,  though  in 

I  appearani  e  but  one  ;    and  the  ci it  1 .1  m<  e  <>l    the    harbor  is 

sheltered  by  a  pier  or  breakwater  of  stone,  1,700  feel  long. 

The  castle  of  Dover  is  one  of  the  interesting  edifices  in  Eng- 
land.    It  stands  on  one  of  the  great  hills,  a  short  distance  from 


344  ENGLAND. 

the  town,  and  its  walls  inclose  thirty-five  acres.  It  is  supposed 
to  have  been  founded  by  the  Romans ;  but  some  portions  of  it 
are  Saxon,  some  Norman,  and  some  belong  to  a  later  period. 
It  contains  a  separate  keep,  as  it  is  called,  now  used  as  a  maga- 
zine, and  other  parts  are  barracks  for  2,000  men.  Within  the 
castle  precincts  stands  an  octagonal  watch-tower,  interesting  not 
only  as  the  earliest  specimen  of  Roman  architecture  in  England, 
but  also  as  one  of  the  most  ancient  examples  of  mason-work  in 
Great  Britain. 

This  town  is  one  of  very  great  antiquity.  In  the  neighborhood 
of  Dover,  Julius  Cassar  made  his  first  attempt  to  land  on  the 
British  coast.  The  antiquity  of  this  event  is  made  more  appar- 
ent by  a  remembrance  of  the  fact  that  he  died  44  years  before 
Christ.  We  are  informed  by  history  that  "  he  was  induced  to 
change  his  point  of  debarkation,  owing  to  the  abruptness  of  the 
shore  and  other  difficulties."  Under  the  Saxon  kings  it  became 
a  position  of  great  importance  in  the  defence  of  Kent,  which 
was  then  all  of  the  southern  part  of  England. 

In  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  who  died  in  1066,  this 
was  one  of  what  were  called  the  Five,  or  Cinque  Ports  ;  the  others 
were  Hastings,  Romney,  Hythe,  and  Sandwich.  As  these  ports 
were  opposite  to  France,  they  received  peculiar  advantages  in 
the  early  days  of  English  history,  on  condition  of  providing  in 
times  of  war  a  certain  number  of  ships  at  their  own  expense. 
They  were  governed  by  an  officer  called  the  Lord- warden  of  the 
Cinque  Ports.  The  Uuke  of  Wellington  was  lord-warden  of 
them  at  the  time  of  his  death,  which  was  at  the  official  resi- 
dence, Walmer  Castle,  near  Deal,  Sept.  14,  1852. 

According  to  Camden,  the  first  warden  was  appointed  by 
William  the  Conqueror,  who  died  in  1087,  but  their  charter  has 
been  traced  directly  to  the  times  of  Edward  the  Saxon  king,  as 
before  named.  This  port  was  considered  as  the  key  of  the 
kingdom.  After  the  establishment  of  Norman  rule,  it  suffered 
the  vengeance  of  William  the  Conqueror,  to  whom  it  made 
strong  opposition.  In  1213  King  John  performed  at  Dover 
the  ceremony  of  submission  to  the  Pope,  giving  up  his  authority 
to  the  papal  nuncio. 

In  1295  the  French  made  a  descent  upon  the  place  and 
committed  great  depredations ;  and  so  for  centuries  it  was  the 
theatre  of  attacks  and  defences,  but  we  pass  all,  intimating,  how- 
ever, that  no  more  interesting  history  exists  than  that  relating  to 
these  invasions  of  the  territory  of  England  by  the  various  people 
who  had  an  eye  to  the  possession  of  new  territory,  —  for  which 


BRIGHTON.  345 

practice  England  herself  has  for  centuries  been  celebrated,  and 
which  found  its  last  expression  in  obtaining  possession  of  Cyprus. 

In  1847  a  mass  from  one  of  the  chalk-cliffs  scaled  off  and  fell 
to  the  base.  It  was  254  feet  in  height,  15  feet  thick,  and  was 
calculated  to  weigh  48,000  tons.  Shortly  after,  another  fell,  of 
10,000  cubic  yards.  The  principal  cliff  is  350  feet  high  above 
the  water,  which  is  more  than  half  as  high  again  as  our  Bunker 
Hill  Monument.  Another,  called  Shakespeare's  Cliff,  is  located 
just  in  the  rear  of,  and  is  a  background  of,  the  town,  and  is  per- 
forated by  the  tunnel  of  the  Southeastern  Railway. 

Nothing  is  or  can  be  more  picturesque  and  grand  than  these 
chalk-white,  clean-faced,  and  very  perpendicular  walls,  covered 
as  they  are  on  their  top  and  rear  slopes  with  a  splendid  grass 
verdure.  The  blue  water  of  the  bay ;  the  old  weather-beaten 
part  of  the  city,  —  quite  European,  though  not  all  antique;  and 
the  long  line  of  fine  beach ;  the  grand  avenue  above  it,  so  alive 
with  gay  teams  and  pleasure-seekers  ;  the  mile-range  of  hotels 
and  mansions ;  and  to  the  left,  the  lofty  promontory  land,  with 
the  castle  on  its  top  and  the  high  lands  extending  well  out  into 
the  sea,  its  waves  beating  at  times  grandly  against  these  milk- 
white  ramparts,  —  this  group  of  things  forms  a  scene  of  remark- 
able splendor  and  interest.  Our  stay  here  was  exceedingly 
pleasant  and  was  exhilarating  in  the  extreme.  We,  the  next 
a.  m.  at  9.30,  took  our  steamer  for  Calais,  which  is  the  nearest 
port  of  France,  2 1  miles  over  the  channel. 

Before,  however,  closing  our  work,  we  will  speak  of  one  more 
place  in  England,  —  in  a  sense  a  counterpart  of  Dover.  It  is  the 
famed  watering-place,  Brighton.  Though  we  did  not  visit  it  for 
some  months  after  this,  —  till  on  the  10th  of  August,  — yet  as  it 
is  the  only  place  of  England  we  visited  not  yet  described,  we 
take  occasion  to  speak  of  it  now,  and  so  complete  our  record. 

BRIGHTON. 

We  took  cars  at  London  for  Brighton  one  Saturday  night,  and 
after  a  two  hours'  ride  arrived  at  the  famed  watering-place.  The 
fir^t  impression  was  that  we  were  in  a  large  and  old  place,  and 
in  anything  but  one  to  which  people  would  resorl  for  pleasure; 
for  the  place  in  the  vicinity  of  the  station,  and  especially  for  the 
entire  length  of  a  long  streel  leading  down  from  ii,  had  a  very 
commercial  and  business-like  appearance;  and,  as  we  passed 
down  its  entire  length  and  looked  to  the  right  and  left,  corn- 
Unit  streets,  houses,  and  shops,  and  even  line  stores  and 


346  ENGLAND. 

warehouses,  seemed  to  extend  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach ; 
no  tree  nor  garden,  nor  even  front-yard  anywhere,  but  one  mass 
of  solid  buildings,  and  surely  a  great  population. 

Our  only  hope  and  tangible  evidence  that  we  had  not  mis- 
taken this  for  the  watering-place  Brighton  —  as  we  had  mistaken 
the  little  fishing-place  Wells,  for  the  cathedral  town  —  was  a  very 
large  lot  of  well-to-do,  stylishly  dressed  people,  all  passing  down 
this  great  main  street.  We  of  course  followed,  for  just  then  we 
considered  ourselves  watering-place  visitors,  and  so  in  a  sense 
aristocratic.  At  length  the  end  of  the  street  gained,  all  fears 
-were  dispelled,  for  there  in  front  lay  the  grand  harbor,  and  for 
aught  we  could  see  to  the  contrary,  thousands  of  miles  of  good 
ocean  were  stretching  out  from  it. 

Here,  as  at  Dover,  was  a  grand  avenue,  along  for  some  two  or 
three  miles,  with  a  most  remarkable  shore,  and  its  fine  beach 
extending  for  miles.  A  very  good  cut-stone  wall  is  built  the 
entire  length  of  the  city,  dividing  the  beach  from  the  grand 
avenue,  and  along  these  thousands  were  promenading.  The 
style  of  hotels  is  quite  in  advance  of  those  at  Dover.  They 
are  many  in  number,  and  are  of  a  quite  similar  appearance  as 
compared  to  each  other,  none  of  them,  however,  being  striking 
as  works  of  art  or  architecture.  They  are  of  stone  or  brick,  and 
of  a  cream-color ;  all  are  from  three  to  five  stories  high,  very 
plain,  without  porticos  or  much  of  any  decoration ;  and  while 
they  had  a  neat  and  inviting  look,  yet  none  of  them  appeared 
to  be  very  new  or  modern,  but  substantial,  and,  perhaps  of  most 
appropriate  construction  for  their  exposed  situation.  The  land 
rises  amphitheatre-like  from  the  water,  and,  as  before  named, 
has  a  solid  and  very  substantial  look. 

It  has  a  population  of  90,000,  and  extends  for  three  miles 
along  the  coast,  from  Kemptown  on  the  east  to  Hove  on  the 
west.  It  was  not  a  place  of  especial  resort  till  about  a  century 
ago,  when  Dr.  Richard  Russell  published  a  work  on  the  use  of 
sea-water  which  attracted  much  attention  ;  and  its  celebrity  as  a 
watering-place  became  established  when  George  IV.  —  who  at 
the  time,  1784,  was  simply  the  Prince  of  Wales  —  made  it  his 
place  of  residence,  and  began  the  erection  of  a  peculiar  building, 
called  the  Pavilion,  which  was  finished  in  1787.  The  grounds 
were  some  five  acres  in  extent,  and  finely  laid  out  by  the  build- 
ing of  avenues,  paths,  lawns,  flower-beds,  and  the  setting 
out  of  good  shrubbery  and  trees.  The  estate  is  very  centrally 
located,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  neighborhood  of  the  best  inhabi- 
tants.    The  town  ultimately  purchased  it  of  the  crown,  for  the 


BRIGHTON.  347 

sum  of  $265,000,  and  threw  the  premises  open  to  the  public  as 
pleasure-grounds.  In  all  our  travels  we  saw  no  finer  taste 
displayed  in  the  arrangement  of  elegant  colored-plant  designs, 
nor  on  as  large  a  scale,  as  we  saw  here.  They  were  indeed 
marvels  of  genius  and  beauty.  Our  visit  to  these  grounds  was 
after  tea  Sunday  night,  when  hundreds  of  people  were  enjoying 
the  treat ;  and  among  the  few  very  choice  and  pleasant  hours  in 
England,  these  are  to  be  named. 

For  the  pleasure  of  sojourners,  two  novel  things  exist.  They 
are  what  are  called  chain-piers,  and  extend  out  into  the  sea  ;  and 
are  as  exposed  as  would  be  similar  structures  built  out  into 
the  ocean  from  our  Chelsea  or  Nantasket  Beach,  for  the  relative 
situation  is  the  same.  One  was  erected  in  1822-3,  at  an 
expense  of  $150,000.  It  is  1,134  feet  long,  and  extends,  of  this 
length,  1,014  ^eet  hito  the  sea.  As  5,280  feet  are  a  mile,  it  will 
be  seen  that  this  is  about  one  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length.  The 
other,  which  is  located  about  half  a  mile  or  so  from  that  named, 
was  erected  in  1867.  It  is  1,115  ^eet  l°ng-  They  are  built  in 
suspension-bridge  style,  with  good  stone  towers,  and  iron-work 
for  cords  and  suspension.  They  are  frequented  by  thousands 
for  the  fine  views  and  sea  air. 

The  sea-wall  before  alluded  to  is  a  grand  structure,  varying  in 
height  as  the  rise  or  fall  of  the  land  requires  ;  and  is  in  height, 
above  the  beach,  all  the  way  from  20  feet,  —  which  is  about  the 
average  height,  for  a  mile  at  the  central  part  of  the  town,  —  and 
then  rising  to  full  60  feet,  as  it  extends  towards  the  elevated  land 
at  the  left.  The  broad  avenue  continues  to  this,  and  well  up 
on  the  elevation,  and  from  this  the  finest  imaginable  views  of  the 
ocean  in  front  and  the  city  are  at  hand,  and  to  the  rear  and 
right  may  be  had.  At  the  base  of  this  wall,  and  near  the  shore, 
is  an  aquarium,  the  buildings  being  low  but  large,  tasty,  and 
admirably  adapted  for  their  purpose.  It  was  opened  to  the 
public  in  1872.  In  the  western  quarter  is  a  battery  of  six 
42-pounders,  erected  in  1793.  On  the  eastern  side  is  Queen's 
Park,  and  on  the  western  is  a  chalybeate  spring. 

There  are  twenty-five  chapels  and  churches  belonging  to  the 
established  church,  and  thirty  of  other  denominations.  Of  them 
all,  none  had  so  much  charm  to  us  as  Trinity  (  lhapel,  where  once 
the  thoughtful  and  good  Frederick  W.  Robertson  preached,  and 
sacrificed  himself  for  humanity.  We,  as  it  were  instinctively,  on 
Sunday  wended  our  way  there,  for  although  long  sini 
Cotton  Mather  would  have  said,  he  had  "passed  on  to  the 
celestials,"  yet  it  was  our  highest  thought  to  see  the  place.      We 


348  ENGLAND. 

found  it  a  very  ordinary  building,  in  a  fair  neighborhood.  The 
edifice  was  of  no  especial  pretension,  outside  or  inside.  It  had 
a  frontage  of  perhaps  45  feet,  was  of  a  debased  Grecian  archi- 
tecture, with  no  look  of  chapel,  save  what  was  given  to  it  by  a 
very  unpretending  cupola,  or  bell-tower,  resting  on  the  roof. 
Inside  it  was  quite  as  simple  and  in  the  same  style ;  common 
galleries  were  on  the  two  sides  and  the  door  end  ;  and  while  all 
was  neat,  yet  there  was  no  display  nor  churchly  look.  Here 
the  scholarly  man  thought  and  labored,  and,  as  it  were,  died. 
Robertson  was  born  at  London,  Feb.  3,  18 16  ;  graduated  at 
Brazenose  College,  Oxford,  1840  ;  and,  after  being  curate  at  Win- 
chester, Cheltenham,  and  Oxford,  in  1847  he  became  minister 
here  ;  and  after  a  most  laborious  experience  in  his  parish,  and 
outside  of  it,  and  remarkably  so  for  the  working-men  and  the 
poor,  he  fell  a  victim  of  overwork  and  left  the  scenes  of  his 
earthly  labors,  Aug.  15,  1853,  at  the  age  of  but  37.  His  broad 
views  of  the  divine  government  and  human  destiny  cost  him 
the  loss  of  sympathy  he  otherwise  would  have  had.  Conscien- 
tious to  a  remarkable  degree,  intellectual  and  finished  beyond 
most  others,  and  withal  sensitive,  he  inwardly  deplored  his  con- 
ditions and  surroundings  ;  but  never  yielded,  and  at  last  passed 
on,  to  be  fully  appreciated  only  when  the  spirit  and  body  had 
parted  companionship.  Hardly  had  his  sermons  been  issued  from 
the  press  before  their  depth  of  thought,  their  comprehensive 
reach,  their  elegant  diction,  and  sweet  temper  were  appreciated  ; 
and  now,  no  denomination,  evangelical  or  unevangelical,  is  there 
whose  clergyman  will  not  speak  in  their  praise.  Wherever  the 
English  language  is  spoken,  the  fine  productions  of  Frederick 
William  Robertson  will  be  spoken  of  as  a  choice  thing,  and  an 
honor  to  the  English  tongue. 

There  are  five  banks  and  six  newspapers  in  the  town  ;  and 
one  hundred  fishing-boats  are  owned  and  used,  manned  by  500 
men.  The  principal  fish  taken,  and  in  abundance,  are  mackerel, 
herrings,  soles,  brill,  and  turbot ;  and  mullet  and  whiting  are 
often  caught.  The  place  is  very  old,  for  in  the  old  Doomsday 
Book  it  is  spoken  of,  and  there  called  by  the  name  of  Bright- 
helmstone. 

Having  before  spoken  of  Doomsday  Book,  we  will  take  time 
enough  here  to  say  that  it  is  an  old  register  of  lands  in  England, 
framed  by  order  of  William  the  Conqueror,  and  was  begun 
somewhere  from  1080  to  1085,  and  was  finished  sure  in  1086. 
The  book  is  yet  preserved  in  the  chapter-house  of  Westminster. 
A  facsimile  was  published  by  the  government  in  1 783,  having 


BRIGHTON  349 

been  ten  years  in  passing  through  the  press.  It  is  a  valuable 
and  interesting  work,  and  is  in  itself  a  sort  of  complete  registry 
of  English  possessions. 

Brighton  under  the  longer  name  is  there  referred  to.  It,  like 
Dover,  and  in  fact  all  border  towns,  suffered  often  from  invasions, 
and  the  French  plundered  and  burnt  it  in  15 13.  During  the 
reigns  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Queen  Elizabeth,  fortifications  were 
erected  for  its  protection.  Two  hundred  years  ago  it  was  a 
fishing-town,  and  had  600  families.  Now,  the  fishing  still  con- 
tinues, but  its  many  hotels,  its  grand  summer  boarding-houses, 
and  its  population  furnish  a  ready  market  at  home. 

On  one  portion  of  the  Sunday  we  attended  worship  in  the 
Quaker  meeting-house.  The  word  church  cannot  be  used  with 
propriety  here,  for  the  place  was  anything  but  that.  We  chanced 
in  our  walks  to  fall  in  with  it,  —  and  need  we  have  asked  who 
worshipped  there?  —  a  good  stone  building,  unpretending  but 
very  neat,  end  to  the  road,  and  back  full  100  feet  from  the  street, 
with  a  beautiful  park-like  garden  enclosed  in  front.  We  went  in, 
and  the  same  nicety  was  everywhere.  Plain,  but  of  a  rather 
higher  grade  than  we  were  used  to  seeing  in  places  of  worship  of 
this  sect.  The  house  was  quite  large,  and  was  nearly  filled. 
Some  four  or  five  of  the  more  elect  ones  were  at  their  usual 
place  on  the  high-seats,  and  facing  the  audience.  All  of  them 
were  moved  by  the  spirit  to  speak,  and  to  our  pleasure  did  so. 
The  tone  of  remark  was  to  speak  ill  of  themselves,  and  suggest 
the  deplorable  conditions  incident  to  an  earthly  life ;  but  the 
advice  they  gave  was  salutary,  the  opinion  honest  and  sincere, 
and  good  was  done.  This  was  the  extreme  opposite  of  the 
ornate  Episcopal  service,  and  as  we  had  had  that  first  on  enter- 
ing England,  it  was  well  we  had  this  last  on  leaving  it.  It  was 
not  our  intention  to  furnish  evidence  against  ourselves,  and  tell 
that  after  remaining  but  a  short  time  in  Trinity  Chapel  we  were 
too  uninterested  to  stay,  and  so  quietly  walked  out,  being  near 
the  door,  and  going  we  knew  not  exactly  where,  came  in  here  ; 
but  we  have  now  told  the  story,  and  so  the  reader  will  not  be 
at  a  loss  to  know  why  we  had  nothing  to  say  of  service  there. 

Mm  h  more  would  we  say  of  this  Brighton,  —  its  fine  air,  views, 
fashionable  life,  and  desirable  conditions,  but  we  rest  the  case 
here.  When  we  have  written  one  of  these  articles,  we  find  an 
abundance  more  material  left  than  we  have  used.  The  task 
of  omitting  material  is  a  great  one.  What  >u>t  to  say  is  what 
troubles  1 

Although  an  account  of  the  passage  to  Calais,  and  a  descrip- 


350  ENGLAND. 

tion  of  that  place  would  not  ordinarily  be  in  order  in  a  work 
pertaining  to  the  places  here  described  ;  yet  there  being  involved 
certain  items  of  historical  interest  to  Americans  we  venture  to 
say  a  few  words  pertaining  to  things  across  the  channel,  and 
with  that  end  our  work. 

Having  digressed  this  much,  we  now  go  back  to  old  Dover, 
where  the  last  accounts  left  us,  and  at  9.30  a.  m.  of  Wednesday, 
June  19,  are  on  board  the  steamer  for  a  few  hours'  sail,  across  the 
channel  to  Calais. 

Our  voyage  was  far  from  being  an  unpleasant  one.  We  were 
not  entirely  out  of  sight  of  land,  as  Dover  was  behind  or  Calais 
before  us  all  the  time,  for  in  fair  weather  these  are  always  in  view. 
The  steamers  are  strong  and  adapted  for  their  work.  They  are 
about  the  size  of  those  that  ply  in  our  harbor,  the  John  A.  An- 
drew if  you  please  ;  but  white  paint  for  a  steamer  is  quite  dis- 
tasteful to  people  of  the  region  we  are  in.  Black  is  to  them  the 
fine  and  good  color.  No  money  is  to  be  expended  for  nice 
inside  finish  as  in  the  Andrew ;  but  everything  is  solid  and  neat, 
and  we  ought  to  be  generous  enough  to  say,  "  as  good  as  need 
be,"  and  we  will  say  it. 

Generally  this  Channel  is  rough  and  boisterous.  Currents 
and  winds  through  this  great  valley  of  the  land  and  sea  are  so  in 
conflict,  that  seldom  is  there  a  calmer  or  even  as  calm  a  time 
as  we  had.  Now  the  two  hours  end,  and  we  are  nearing  shore. 
England  has  been  left  behind,  with  pleasant  memories  that  it 
would  n't  take  much  reflection  to  transform  into  regrets  ;  yet  all  is 
lighted  up  with  good  anticipations,  for  we  two  Bostonians  are 
soon  to  stand  on  the  soil  of  Imperial  France.  The  thought  even 
now  kindles  peculiar  emotions.  Sunny  France  !  an  elastic  peo- 
ple, brilliant  in  exploit ;  its  great  metropolis  the  epitome  of  a 
remarkable  civilization  !  We  thus  thought  of  it  then,  and  thus  we 
think  of  it  now.  The  steamer  slackens  her  speed,  and  we  are  on 
the  upper  deck,  ready  to  land  at 

CALAIS. 

But  two  hours'  sail  across  the  Channel,  and  we  are  now,  at  12 
M.  of  Wednesday,  June  19,  standing  on  French  soil,  and  though 
but  21  miles  from  England,  and  people  of  the  two  places  have 
been  for  centuries  crossing  the  Channel  and  communicating  with 
each  other,  still,  things  here  are  peculiar  and  have  an  outlandish 
look.  It  is  like  Dover,  somewhat  of  a  waterfng-place  ;  and  there 
is  a  fine  beach,  with  a  large  chateau-like  hotel  on  the  right  shore 


CALAIS.  351 

as  we  enter.  The  wharf  at  which  we  land  is  an  old  wooden 
structure,  and  everything  about  it  has  an  aged  look.  We  did 
not  go  up  into  the  city,  but  remained  at  the  wharf  for  the  depart- 
ure of  the  train  which  was  already  there  and  in  waiting.  We 
now  began  to  hear  French  talked  as  the  rule,  and  English  as 
the  exception.  The  station  was  quite  a  large  and  substantial 
structure  of  brick,  and  here  was  what  was  called  a  cafe,  or,  as  we 
should  say,  a  restaurant.  The  art  of  restaurating  is  not  well 
developed  outside  of  America.  Lager  beer,  sandwiches,  and  a 
few  ordinary  cakes  are  about  all  that  can  be  found.  In  a  distant 
part  of  the  building  dinner  could  be  had  at  a  cost  of  about  a 
dollar.  In  fact  people  when  they  came  into  the  car  were  com- 
plaining loudly  :  first,  of  the  lack  of  things  to  eat ;  next,  of  quan- 
tity ;  and  finally,  of  exorbitant  prices.  This  was  a  fair  sample  of 
a  majority  of  all  we  met  with.  A  mild  rain  was  falling,  and  we 
contented  ourselves  with  remaining  about  the  station  nearly  an 
hour. 

Calais  is  one  of  the  seaports  of  France,  19  miles  from  Bou- 
logne, and  150  miles  north  of  Paris,  which  —  added  to  the  21 
miles  from  Calais  to  Dover,  and  the  62  miles  from  there 
to  London  —  makes  the  distance  from  the  place  last  named  to 
Paris  233  miles,  or  the  same  distance  as  between  New  York  and 
Boston.  Its  population  in  1866  was  12,727,  or  about  double 
that  of  our  Calais,  Maine,  that  being  5,944.  Both  are  border 
towns,  with  the  English  opposite.  It  is  situated  on  a  rather 
barren  district,  the  surrounding  country  being  of  cheap  land,  and 
under  poor  cultivation ;  A  great  difference  exists  in  these 
respects  on  the  two  sides  of  the  water.  The  place  is  well  forti- 
fied by  a  citadel  and  quite  a  number  of  forts  ;  being  one  of  the 
border  towns,  it  has,  like  those  of  England,  been  subject  to  con- 
stant invasions. 

The  harbor  is  formed  of  long  wooden  piers,  and  is  very 
shallow.  It  has  a  lighthouse  190  feet  high,  which  is  very  com- 
manding in  effect,  and  adds  much  to  the  look  of  the  place  as 
one  of  commerce.  Steamers  ply  daily,  and  at  times  quite  often, 
across  the  Straits  of  Dover  to  England.  The  streets  are  broad 
and  level,  and  so  far  as  we  saw,  were  well  paved.  The  houses 
were  neat,  and  mostly  of  stone  or  brick,  though  a  portion  of 
them  were  wooden.  What  are  called  the  ramparts  afford  a  good 
promenade,  and  it  is  said  that,  as  a  general  thing,  English  is  the 
spoken  language.  Among  the  noteworthy  buildings  is  the  old 
church  of  Notre  Dame, — a  favorite  name  for  French  chun  hes, 
—  the  words  meaning  Our  Lady,  an  allusion  to  the  Virgin  Mar) . 


352  ENGLAND. 

This  church  contains  the  celebrated  painting  of  the  Assump- 
tion by  Vandyke. 

The  Hotel  de  Ville  is  a  very  old  and  large  structure  contain- 
ing the  public  city  offices,  and  has  a  high  tower  and  belfry,  with 
clock  and  chime  of  bells.  Another  ancient  structure  is  the 
Hotel  de  Guise,  an  edifice  erected  for  the  wool-stapler's  guild  — 
an  institution  founded  by  Edward  III.  There  are  various  sta- 
tues and  busts  of  distinguished  men  in  the  more  public  places ; 
but  what  is  a  very  conspicuous  object  is  the  Tower  of  Guet, 
which  dates  back  to  12 14,  or  669  years  ago.  It  was  for  centu- 
ries used  as  a  lighthouse  ;  and,  though  having  a  history  of  one 
third  of  the  time  from  the  Christian  era,  as  Longfellow  has  said 
of  the  Belfry  of  Bruges,  "still  it  watches  o'er  the  town." 

Prior  to  the  twelfth  century  Calais  was  an  insignificant  fishing- 
village  ;  but  Baldwin  IV.,  Count  of  Flanders,  was  especially 
pleased  with  the  location,  and  realizing  its  importance  as  a  sea- 
port, and  its  possibilities  as  a  place  of  resort  for  sea-bathing  and 
summer  residence,  greatly  improved  it,  and  about  the  year  997, 
expended  much  money  for  its  advancement.  Philip  of  France, 
Count  of  Boulogne,  in  the  early  part  of  the  thirteenth  century 
enlarged  and  strengthened  its  fortifications. 

It  was  invaded  by  the  English,  and  in  1347  it  was,  after  a  long 
siege,  taken  by  King  Edward  II.  ;  and  in  the  negotiations  for 
peace,  Eustace  St.  Pierre,  and  five  companions  were  accepted  as 
a  ransom  for  the  entire  population,  and  finally,  they  themselves 
had  their  lives  spared  by  the  intercession  of  the  wife  of  Edward, 
Queen  Philippa.  From  that  time  it  remained  in  possession  of 
the  English  a  period  of  211  years,  when  in  1558,  it  was  besieged 
by  the  French  under  the  Duke  of  Guise  ;  and  with  the  exception 
of  the  years  1596-8,  when  it  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Span- 
iards, it  has  remained  in  comparatively  quiet  possession  of  the 
French. 

It  has  been  from  first  to  last  a  somewhat  memorable  place, 
and  has  played  an  important  part  in  history.  Charles  II.  of 
England,  after  the  battle  of  Worcester,  Sept.  3,  1651,  fled  to 
France  ;  but  the  peace  of  1 65  5  forced  him  to  leave  the  country 
and  he  went  to  Bruges,  and  remained  there  and  at  Brussels  till 
he  heard  of  Cromwell's  death  in  1658,  when,  in  order  to  avail 
himself  of  the  great  confusion  it  caused  in  England,  he  ventured 
to  station  himself  at  Calais,  which  he  did  in  August  of  1659  ;  and, 
with  this  as  his  headquarters,  he  opened  negotiations  with  Gen- 
eral  Monk,  which  ended  in  his  being  proclaimed  king  of  Eng- 
land, May  8,  1660. 


CALAIS.  353 

It  was  here  also  that  James  II.  mustered  his  forces  for  the 
invasion  of  Ireland ;  and  finally  it  is  memorable  as  the  place 
where  Louis  XVIII.  landed,  April  21,  1814,  after  his  exile,  and 
the  spot  is  marked  by  a  column  and  an  inscription  of  the 
event. 

There  is  a  matter  of  such  interest,  more  especially  to  us  Bos- 
tonians,  connected  with  the  channel  between  Dover  and  Calais, 
we  cannot  well  refrain  from  noticing  it ;  and  it  is,  that  on  the  7th 
of  January,  1785,  two  men  were  here  for  the  first  time  successful 
in  conducting  a  balloon  on  any  extended  scale,  and  guiding  it 
to  a  particular  destination  ;  and  we  are  happy  to  be  able  to  state 
that  a  very  distinguished  Bostonian  was  one  of  these,  the  cele- 
brated physician  Dr.  John  Jeffries,  who  was  born  in  our  Boston, 
Feb.  4,  1 744,  being  at  the  time  first  named,  a  resident  of  Lon- 
don, and  in  a  successful  practice  of  his  profession.  Being 
largely  interested  in  scientific  pursuits,  and  especially  those  re- 
lating to  atmospheric  pressure,  he  was  invited  by  one  Francois 
Blanchard,  a  Frenchman  and  an  aeronaut,  to  attempt  with  him 
the  task  of  crossing  this  channel.  They  started  from  the  cliffs 
of  Dover  at  the  time  before  named,  and  safely  landed  in  the  for- 
est of  Guines  in  France.  The  doctor,  in  consequence  of  his 
venture,  received  great  attentions  from  learned  and  scientific 
men  and  societies  in  London  and  Paris.  Blanchard,  who  had 
planned  the  voyage  and  furnished  the  balloon,  was  rewarded  by 
Louis  XVI.  with  a  gift  of  12,000  francs,  or  $2,500,  and  a  life-pen- 
sion of  1,200  francs  annually.  He  died  in  Paris,  March  7,  1809, 
at  the  age  of  71.  Dr.  Jeffries  removed  back  to  Boston  in  1789, 
four  years  after  the  balloon  passage,  and  died  there  Sept.  16, 
1 8 19,  at  the  age  75,  and  was  buried  in  the  Granary  burial- 
ground  on  Tremont  Street. 

There  are  two  things  of  especial  interest  that  may  be  named 
as  we  speak  of  Dr.  Jeffries.  One  is  that  it  was  he  and 
John  Winslow  of  Boston  who  first  recognized  the  body  of  Gen- 
eral Warren  who  fell  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  It  lay  where 
it  fell  till  the  succeeding  day,  when,  being  recognized,  it  was 
buried  on  the  same  spot.  The  other  fact  is  that  he  was  one  of 
the  early  permanent  settlers  of  East  Boston,  at  what  is  now  —  and 
long  has  been  known  as — Jeffries  Point.  Although  in  a  degree 
foreign  to  our  purpose,  yet  we  extend  our  remarks  and  name  an 
in<  ident  of  connecting  interest,  which  took  place  in  this  year  of 
I  )r.  Jeffries'  decease. 

After  iii'-  di  ath  of  Blanchard  in  1809,  his  wife,  Marie  Made- 
line  Sophie   Armant,  who  had   accompanied  him   on   many  of 

23 


35-4  ENGLAND. 

the  sixty-six  voyages  he  had  made,  continued  making  like  aerial 
excursions  for  the  following  ten  years  ;  till  on  a  day  of  June  in 
this  year,  1819,  she  ascended  from  the  Tivoli  Garden  in  Paris, 
when  her  balloon,  which  was  illuminated  with  fireworks,  took 
fire  while  at  a  considerable  height,  and  she,  falling,  was  dashed  to 
pieces.  In  a  few  months  after,  as  named,  died  Dr.  Jeffries,  and 
so  ended  the  earthly  career  of  the  trio  most  interested  in  that 
first  great  balloon  enterprise  between  Dover  and  Calais,  thirty- 
four  years  before. 

There  are  yet  a  few  places  of  interest,  which,  although  not  in- 
cluded in  our  journey,  are  so  readily  reached  by  detours  from 
places  we  did  visit,  that  we  deem  it  advisable  to  name  them. 
Conspicuous  among  them  are  the  three  cathedrals  not  described 
in  our  work  :  these  are  Chichester,  one  of  the  five  English 
cathedrals  with  a  spire ;  Wells,  celebrated  for  its  elaborately 
carved  west  facade  and  the  wide  grounds  in  front  of  it ;  and 
Exeter,  having  also  a  highly  decorated  west  end,  with  the  two 
transepts  ending  as  towers. 

Chichester  is  easily  reached  by  a  ride  by  rail  of  28^  miles 
from  Brighton  ;  Exeter  by  one  of  80  miles  from  Bristol ;  and 
Wells,  by  one  of  19  miles  from  Bath. 

Lake  Windermere,  in  no  way  inferior  in  picturesque  beauty 
to  the  lakes  of  Ireland  or  Scotland,  may  be  visited  by  a  ride  of 
1 5  miles  from  Lowgill,  a  station  between  Leeds  and  Carlisle. 

Glastonbury  Abbey  ruins  are  excelled  in  beauty  and  interest 
by  none  in  England  ;  they  may  be  reached  by  a  ride  of  6  miles 
from  Wells,  and  may  be  visited  while  making  the  tour  to  the 
cathedral. 

Tintern  Abbey,  remarkable  for  its  beauty,  may  be  visited 
from  Gloucester.  It  is  a  ride  by  rail  of  40  miles  to  Chepstow, 
and  then  by  coach  for  14  miles  further.  It  hardly  need  be 
added  that  these  ruins  are  over  the  Welsh  border. 

Fountain's  Abbey  ruins,  renowned  and  of  indescribable 
beauty  and  interest,  are  13J  miles  from  Harrowgate,  a  town 
that  may  be  reached  by  a  ride  of  27  miles  by  rail  from  either 
York  or  Leeds.  In  the  vicinity  of  both  Fountain's  Abbey  and 
Harrowgate  are  the  celebrated  ruins  of  Bolton  Priory,  and 
no  day  can  be  more  interestingly  employed  than  one  devoted 
to  these  unusual  and  remarkable  places. 

In  Scotland,  30  miles  from  Glasgow,  is  the  town  of  Ayr,  in 
which  are  the  ruins  of  the  Kirk  of  Alloway,  the  scene  of  "  Tarn 
O'  Shanter."     Near-by  is  the  cottage  in  which   Robert  Burns 


CALAIS.  355 

was  born  ;  and  a  fourth  of  a  mile  away,  on  the  banks  of  his 
celebrated  Doon,  is  a  fine  monument  to  his  memory. 

The  famous  ruins  of  Jedburg  Abbey  are  reached  by  a  car- 
riage-ride of  eight  miles  from  Melrose.  The  town  itself  is  pecu- 
liar in  the  quaintness  of  many  of  its  streets  and  buildings,  and  it 
is  a  principle  with  the  inhabitants  to  preserve  these  antiquities. 

Dryburg  Abbey  ruins  are  beautiful  in  the  extreme,  and  a  fit 
resting-place  for  the  remains  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  They  are 
within  four  miles  of  Melrose. 

But  we  find  the  theme  lengthening,  and  must  forbear ;  and 
in  closing  will  simply  say,  that  the  Giant's  Causeway  may 
be  reached  to  advantage  by  a  jaunt  from  Dublin  to  Belfast, 
one  of  the  chief  cities  of  Ireland,  88  miles  north  of  the  capital ; 
thence  to  Londonderry,  one  of  the  most  finished  and  intelligent 
places  of  the  Emerald  isle  ;  and  thence  to  the  northern  border, 
and  by  steamer  to  the  Causeway.  The  spot  may  also  be  reached 
direct  by  steamer  from  Belfast. 

And  now  we  take  a  respectful  leave  of  our  readers,  trusting 
that  our  humble  work  may  be  acceptable,  and  that  their  knowl- 
edge has  been  increased,  or  their  memory  refreshed,  as  to 
things  in  England,  Ireland,  and  Scotland. 


INDEX. 


Abbeys:  Dryburg,  355 ;  Fountain's, 
354 ;  Glastonbury,  354 ;  Jedburg,  355  ; 
Kirkstall,  192  et  seq. ;  Melrose,  238  ; 
Muckross,  36  et  seq. ;  St.  Finian,  32 
et  seq. ;  Tintern,  354  ;  Westminster, 
131  et  seq. 

Abbotsford:  Sir  Walter  Scott's  resi- 
dence, 234  et  seq. ;  his  last  days  at, 
236  et  seq. 

Alphabet,  Ogham,  27. 

Amesbury,  no. 

Ayr,  354. 

B 

Banin,  John,  65. 

Bath:  city  of,  102;  cathedral  of,  102; 
bell-chimes,  baths,  and  pump-room, 
104,  105  ;  ancient  customs,  105  ;  Beau 
Nash,  104,  105  ;  Samuel  Pepy's  visit 
to,  1668,  105  et  seq.;  Richard  Brins- 
ley  Sheridan,  106. 

Becket,  Thomas  a:  biography  of,  336 i 
shrine  of,  338. 

BEDE,  the  Venerable,  248  et  seq. 

Beherton:  little  church  of,  and  rec- 
tory, 114;  Rev.  George  Herbert's 
ministry,   115. 

Birkenhead,  96. 

Birmingham  :  city  of,  179;  parks,  180; 
statistics  concerning,  180  et  seq. 

Black  Valley,  Ireland,  28. 

Blarney  :  ride  to,  18 ;  castle  of,  19  et 
seq.;  legends  concerning,  21. 

BOLTON  Priory,  354. 

BOKO,  Brian,  70. 

Boston  :  town  of,  270 ;  St.  Botolph's 
Church,  271  ;  Kcv.  John  Cotton,  271 
et  seq.  ;   English  hotel  names,  273. 


Boyle,  Earl  of,  49. 

Bridge,  old  London,  138  et  seq. 

Brigid,  St.,  chapel  of,  67. 

Brighton  :  city  of,  345 ;  beach  and 
promenade,  346  ;  residence  of  George 
IV..  pavilion,  346;  chain  piers,  347; 
church  of  Rev.  F.  W.  Robertson,  348; 
Doomsday  Book,  348 ;  history  of, 
349  i  Quaker  meeting,  349. 

Brighton,  New,  76. 

Bristol  :  city  of,  97  ;  St.  Mary  Rad- 
cliffe  Church,  9S  ;  Thomas  Chatter- 
ton's  forgeries,  99;  first  steamships 
to  America,  100;  cathedral  of,  100; 
old  institutions,  102. 


Cabot,  John,  100. 

Calais  (France) :  passage  to,  350  ;  city 
of,  351  ;  ancient  buildings,  351  ;  his- 
tory of,  352  ;  balloon  ascension,  353  ; 
American  Dr.  John  Jeffries,  359. 

Callender,  210. 

Cambridge  :  city  of,  295  ;  respect  for 
antiquities,  296  ;  colleges,  296  et  seq. ; 
Fitzwilliam  Museum,  ancient  church- 
es, 310,  311  ;  University  Library, 
School  of  Pythagoras,  Barnwell  Pri- 
ory, Hobson's  Conduit,  "Hobson's 
choice,"  311  ;  government  of  the  Uni- 
versity, expense  of  education,  312; 
college  statistics,  314. 

Canterbury:  cultivation  of  land  in 
vicinity  of,  331 ;  town  of,  332  ;  Dane 
John,  333 ;  cathedral,  333  et  seq.  ; 
Thomas  a  Becket,  336  et  seq.;  emi- 
nent men  of,  340;  Walloons,  341; 
Edward  the  Black  Prince,  342. 

Car,  Irish  jaunting,  18. 


358 


INDEX. 


Carlisle:  city  of,  193;  cathedral  of, 
193  ;  celebrated  bishops,  194  ;  castle, 
195  ;   William  Paley,  195. 

Carkick-on-Suir,  59. 

Cascade,  Tore,  38. 

Cash  el,  rock  of,  66. 

Castles:  Blarney,  19;  Carlisle,  195; 
Donnington,  125;  Edinburgh,  228; 
Kilkenny, 63  ;  Loughmore,  67;  Monks- 
town,  and  Anastatia  Goold's  exploit 
at  building  it,  ti  ;   Ross,  34. 

Cathedrals  :  Bath,  102  ;  Bristol, 
101  ;  Canterbury,  353;  Chester,  Si; 
Chichester,  354  ;  Christ  Church  (Dub- 
lin), 51  ;  Durham,  246  ;  Ely,  290  ;  Ex- 
eter, 354;  Glasgow,  201;  Gloucester, 
95  ;  Hereford,  93 ;  Lichfield,  1S2  ; 
Lincoln,  268  ;  Norwich,  2S6  ;  Oxford, 
162  ;  Peterboro,  276  ;  Rochester,  330  ; 
St.  Canice,  63;  St.  Patrick's,  4.S;  St. 
Paul's,  143;  Salisbury,  106;  Wells, 
354  ;  Winchester,  119  ;  Worcester,  SS. 

Cathedral  Service  :  history  of,  47  ; 
chanting  introduced,  48. 

Causeway,  Giant's,  355. 

Chatham,  331. 

Chatterton,  Thomas,  biography  of, 
and  literary  forgeries,  98  ct  scq. 

Chester  :  city  of.  79  ;  ancient  walls  of, 
79, 80  ;  ruins,  ancient  buildings,  cathe- 
dral, 81  :  St.  John's  Church,  82  ;  God's 
Providence  House,  barracks,  cathedral 
service,  military  parade,  American 
Revolution  flags,  83 ;  Roman  bath, 
eminent  men.  84. 

Chichester,  cathedral  of,  354. 

Churches:  Christ's,  Boston,  Mass., 
151;  St.  Clement  Danes,  London, 
156;  St.  John's,  Chester,  S2 ;  St. 
Sepulchre's,  London.  154. 

Cork  :  city  of,  11;  Holinshead's  his- 
tory of.  16. 

Cotton,  Rev.  John:  epitaph  of,  125; 
biography  of,  271. 

Coventry:  city  of,  178;  Lady  Godiva 
and  Peeping  Tom,  179. 

D 

Dover:  ride  to,  342;  castle  of,  343; 
town  of,  343  ;  harbor  of,  343;  history 
of,  344;  chalk-cliffs,  345. 


Drake,  John,  the  hermit,  37. 

Dublin  :  city  cf,  44  et  scq.;  St.  Pat- 
rick's Cathedral,  48  ;  Christ  Church 
Cathedral,  50;  Phcenix  Park,  51;  Roy- 
al Hospital,  50;  parliaments  held  here, 
reformed  religion  inaugurated,  53 ; 
custom-house,  courts,  55. 

Dunloe,  cave  and  gap  of,  27. 

Durham:  city  of,  244;  cathedral  of, 
246 ;  sanctuary  ground,  247  ;  Old 
Galilee,  248;  Venerable  Bcde,  St. 
Cuthbert,  249  et  scq. ;  monuments, 
250;  bishops  of,  250  ;  relics,  251. 


Edinburgh  :  city  of,  21S  ;  New  City  of, 
Calton  Hill,  Nelson's  Monument,  Na- 
tional Monument,  219,  220;  Burns 
memorial,  Sir  Walter  Scott's  memo- 
rial, 220;  Holyrood  palace,  221; 
Holyrood  chapel,  223  ;  Queen's  foun- 
tain and  bath,  224  ;  Salisbury  Ciags, 
Old  City,  224  ;  wynds,  or  closes,  Mai- 
son  Dieu,  225 ;  St  Giles's  Church, 
cemetery,  226,  227  ;  Tolbooth,  John 
Knox's  house,  227  ;  reminiscences  of 
Knox,  227;  theatres  and  customs  re- 
lating to,  distinguished  residents,  22S ; 
abbey  sanctuary,  228  ;  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  residence,  22S  ;  castle,  228  ct 
seq.  ;  St.  Margaret's  chapel,  231  ;  old 
cannon,  Mons  Meg,  231  ;  castle  espla- 
nade, 231  ct  scq. 

Ely  :  town  of,  289  ;  cathedral  of,  290. 

Estates,  landed,  44  et  scq. 

Eton  School,  322. 


Ghearhodh,  Morgyrhead,  Coun- 
tess of,  58. 

Giant's  Causeway,  355. 

Ginkle,  General  De,  44. 

Glasgow  :  city  of,  199  ;  Presbyterian- 
ism,  199  ;  history,  streets,  and  parks, 
200;  college,  cathedral,  necropolis, 
201  ;  Martyrs'  Monument,  202  et 
seq. ;  great  chimneys.  204  ;  Presbyte- 
rian   meeting,  Sunday  intemperance, 


INDEX. 


359 


Glastonbury,  354. 

Glena  Bay,  32. 

Gloucester:  city  of,  95;  history  and  ca- 
thedral of,  95*7"  seq. ;  Dr.Jenners  inoc- 
ulation for  smallpox,  Robert  Raikes's 
Sunday-school,  Rev.  George  White- 
field,  96  ;  martyr  Hooper  burned  here 
at  the  stake,  Thomas  More's  descrip- 
tion of  Richard  III.,  97. 

Gray,  Thomas,  the  poet,  325. 

Green,  Hoggin,  his  Oberammergau 
Play,  53- 

Guinness,  Sir  B.  L.,  his  munificent 
donation  for  restoration  of  Christ 
Church  Cathedral,  50. 

H 

Hampton  Court,  158,  329. 

Henry,  Rev.  Matthew,  ministry  of,  and 
Commentary,  S4. 

Herbert:  Henry  A.,  38;  Rev.  George, 
115. 

Hereford  :  city  of,  92 ;  celebrated 
characters  of,  River  Wye,  93 ;  cathe- 
dral, 93  et  seq. 

Hooper,  Rev.  John,  the  martyr,  97. 

I 

Innisfallen,  island  of,  32. 

Ireland  :  coast  of,  6  ;  spring  season 
in,  10  ;  statistics  of,  6,  8,  69  ;  history 
of,  69  et  seq.  ;  English  in,  40. 

J 

Jenner,  Dr.  Edward,  his  inoculation 
for  smallpox,  96. 

Jeffries,  Dr.  John,  his  balloon  ascen- 
sion, 353. 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  156  et  seq. 

K 

Kearney,   Kate,  her  cottage  and  eve 

to  business,  27. 
Ki  KB]  1   :    Etog  r,  Charles,  John  Philip, 
.'■  I  Mrs.  Siddons),  93. 

kl  KILWORTH,  CUtle  and  grounds  of, 
1  -(>  ct  seq. 

K  1  1  I 1  I..  I-ady  Alice,  her  trial  for  witch- 
craft, 64. 


Kilkenny  :  town  of,  62  ;  castle  of,  St. 
Canice  Cathedral,  63  ;  witchcraft  delu- 
sion, round  tower,  64. 

Killarney  :  town  of,  23  ;  curious  fu- 
neral custom,  24  ;  ride  to  lakes,  scen- 
ery, 26 ;  description  of  lakes,  29  et 
seq. ;  legends,  31. 

Knox,  Rev.  John,  residence  of,  227. 


Lakes:  of  Ireland,  29  et  seq.;  Scot- 
land, 206  et  seq.;  Windermere  (Eng- 
land,) 354. 

Landed  Estates,  and  laws  of  primo- 
geniture, bane  of  the  country,  44. 

Laud,  William  :  archbishop,  122  ;  place 
of  birth,  339. 

Leamington,  174. 

Lee,  river,  passage  up  to  Cork,  villages 
and  scenery,  10. 

Leeds  :  city  of,  191  ;  collieries,  Rev. 
Dr.  Priestley,  191  ct  seq. ;  season, 
Kirkstall  .Abbey,  192  et  seq. 

Lichfield  :  city  of,  1S1  ;  Dr.  Samuel 
Johnson's  birthplace,  181  el  seq.  ;  ca- 
thedral, 1S2  et  seq.  ;  celebrated  bish- 
ops, 184;  cathedral  desecrations  and 
repairs,  1S5  t/"  seq. 

Limerick:  city  of,  40  ;  cathedral,  40  ; 
chime-bells,  castle,  42  ;  resistance  to 
England,  43  et  seq. 

Lincoln  :  city  of,  265  ;  industries  of, 
266 ;  cathedral,  268  ct  seq. 

Liverpool:  passage  to,  from  Dublin, 
75 ;  approach  to  harbor  of,  75  et  seq  ; 
docks  and  landing-stage,  77;  history 
of  place,  77;  intemperance,  court 
scenes,  78;  St.  George's  Hall,  sub- 
urbs, Toxton,  Sefton  Park,  79. 

Loe,  Thomas,  who  converted  William 
Penn  to  Quakerism,  16. 

London:  city  of,  129;  West  End  of, 
Hyde  Park,  129  ct  seq.:  Westminster 
Abbey,  131  ct  seq.;  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment, ij^ctscq.;  River  Thames,  135; 
Victoria  Embankment,  130;  Albert 
Embankment,  137;  bridges,  117;  old 
[on  bridge,  138;  old  watermen's 
troubles  on  the  Thames,  140  etstg  ; 
river  frozen  over,  141  et  uq.\  st. 
Paul's,    143  ct   stq.\    streets  ol,    143; 


360 


INDEX. 


climate  of,  144;  National  Gallery, 
British  Museum,  152;  cabs,  parks, 
153;  old  churches,  154;  tower  of, 
157;  Hampton  Court,  158;  Bunhill 
burial-ground,  159;    Fire  Monument, 

J«5- 

Ludlow,  Lord,  captor  of  Ross  Castle, 

34- 
Lynn,  279  et  seq. 

M 

Manchester:  history  of,  190;  manu- 
factures, 190  et  seq. 

Maryeoro,  67. 

Melrose:  journey  to,  233;  abbey  of, 
238  et  seq. 

More,  Sir  Thomas,  his  description  of 
Richard  III.,  97. 

Mountains  :  of  Ireland,  38  et  seq.;  of 
Scotland,  206  et  seq. 

Muskerry,  Lord,  defender  of  Ross 
Castle,  34. 

N 

Nash,  Beau,  104  et  seq. 

Newbury  :  passage  to,  from  Reading, 
123;  old  Jack  Mouse,  123;  Jack  of 
Newbury,  123  et  seq.;  extraordinary 
cloth  manufacture,  Rev.  Dr.  Twiss, 
Westminster  Catechisms,  New  Eng- 
land Primer,  Benjamin  Woodbridge, 
124  et  seq. ;  Donnington  Castle,  125  ; 
Chaucer's  house,  St.  Nicholas  Church, 
curious  customs  and  ancient  epitaphs, 
1 26  et  seq. 

Newcastle-on-Tyne,  243. 

Norwich:  history  of,  283;  eminent 
persons,  283  et  seq. ;  relics,  284 ;  ca- 
thedral, 286  et  seq. ;  bishops  of,  289. 

O 

Oxford  :  city  of,  161 ;  martyrs,  161  et 
seq.;  cathedral,  Bodleian  Library, 
162;  curiosities,  163;  colleges,  163^ 
seq. ;  students,  165  et  seq. 


Penn,  William :  sailed  for  America,  11  ; 
conversion  to  Quakerism,  16. 


Pepys,  Samuel,  105,  106,  113. 

Peterboro' :  city  of,  276;  cathedral, 
276  et  seq. ;  Whit-Monday,  278  ;  emi- 
nent personages,  279. 

Prout,  Father,  21. 

Punch  Bowl,  the  Devil's,  39. 

Purcell,  ancient  estate  of,  60  et  seq. 


Queenstown  :  harbor  of,  6 ;  city  of,  8  ; 
peculiar  customs,  9. 


Raikes,  Robert,  father  of  Sunday- 
schools,  96. 

Railways,  foreign,  22  et  seq. 

Reading:  city  of,  121  ;  birthplace  of 
Archbishop  Laud,  122  ;  Congregation- 
alist  meeting,  127  et  seq. 

Robertson,  Rev.  F.  W.,  348. 

Rob  Roy  :  country,  207  ;  biography  of, 
207  et  seq. 

Rochester:  city  of,  329;  cathedral, 
330  et  seq. 

Roe,  Henry,  Esq.,  his  work  of  restor- 
ing St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  52. 

Ross,  island  and  castle,  33  et  seq. 

Rudhall,  Abel,  and  Abraham,  cele- 
brated bell-founders,  96. 


Salisbury:  city  of,  106;  cathedral, 
106  et  seq. 

Sarum,  Old,  ruins  of,  10S  et  seq. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter:  Edinburgh  resi- 
dence, 22S  ;  Abbotsford,  234  et  seq. ; 
closing  days  and  hours  of  his  life, 
236  et  seq. 

Service  :  intonation  of,  48  ;  reform  of 
Church  of  England,  in  Ireland,  54. 

Shakespeare,  170,  174. 

SHANDON:  St.  Ann's  Church  of,  13; 
"sweet  bells  of,"  14. 

Sheffield,  264  et  seq. 

Sheridan,  Richard  Brinsley,  106. 

Slovf.nliness  of  American  roads,  19. 

Shrewsbury  :  city  of,  S5  ;  River  Sev- 
ern,   St.     Chad's     Church,    Quarry 


INDEX. 


361 


Walk,  parliaments,  historical  inci- 
dents, 86  et  scq. ;  celebrated  cakes, 
St.  Mary's  Church,  the  Shrewsbury 
clock  by  which  Sir  John  Falstaff 
fought  an  hour,  87  et  seq. 

Smith,  Captain  John,  monument  and 
epitaph  in  St  Sepulchre's  Church, 
London,  1 54  et  seq. 

Staffordshire,  smoke  and  iron  dis- 
trict, 189. 

Steamships,  first  that  crossed  the 
ocean,  100. 

Stirling  :  wars  there,  210  et  seq.  ; 
castle,  212  et  seq.;  old  Gray  Friars 
Church,  213;  ancient  guildhall,  213 
et  seq. ;  ancient  burial-ground,  Wal- 
lace Monument,  214  et  seq. ;  biography 
of  Wallace,  215  et  seq. 

Stoke  Pogis:  ride  to,  from  Windsor, 
321  et  scq.;  church  grounds,  322  et 
seq. ;  the  "  ivy  mantled  tower  "  church, 
323 ;    Gray's   Elegy   and   biography, 

325- 

Stoke-upon-Trent  :  city  of,  187 ;  pot- 
tery manufacture,  187  et  seq. ;  birth- 
place of  Rev.  John  Lightfoot,  188. 

Stonehenge,  no  et  seq. 

Stratford-on-Avon  :  town  of,  169 
et  seq.  ;  Shakespeare's  birthplace, 
church,  1 70  et  scq. ;  his  wife's  monu- 
ment, 172  ;  biography  of  him,  172  et 
seq. ;  Shottery,  residence  of  Anne 
Hathaway,  his  bride,  1  Ji  et  seq. 

Supremacy,  act  of,  70. 

Swift,  Dean  of  St  Patrick's,  Dub- 
lin, 49. 


Theology,  influence  of  Scotch  on  the 
Irish,  46. 

Torc  Cascade,  38. 

Tower,  Reginald,  ancient,  at  Water- 
ford,  58. 

Trent,  river,  187  et  seq. 

Twiss,  Rev.  William,  124  et  seq. 

Tyne,  Newcastle  on,  243. 


Valley,  Black,  in  Ireland,  28. 


W 

Walton,  Isaac,  116,  119. 

Walloons,  the  French  silk-weavers, 
at  Canterbury,  341. 

Warbeck,  Perkin,  16. 

Warwick  :  city  of,  167 ;  castle  of,  167 
et  seq. ;  Leicester  Hospital,  169. 

Waterford  :  city  of,  57  ;  ancient  Reg- 
inald tower,  58 ;  barracks,  soldiers, 
police,  history  of  city,  59. 

Wells  :  fishing-town  of,  282 ;  cathe- 
dral town,  354. 

Whitefield.  Rev.  George,  his  place 
of  birth,  death,  and  burial,  96. 

Wilton  :  town  of,  112  ;  Samuel  Pepys' 
visit  to,  in  166S,  113. 

Winchester:  history  of,  116;  cele- 
brated men,  old  museum,  117;  touch- 
ing for  cure  of  King's  Evil,  ban- 
queting hall,  King  Arthur's  Round 
Table,  Charles  II.'s  palace,  cathedral, 
ii%  et  seq. ;  Isaac  Walton's  tomb,  119; 
marked  historical  events,  120;  re- 
mains of  bishops,  120  et  seq. 

Windsor.:  town  of,  316;  castle,  317 
et  seq.  ;  St  George's  Chapel,  Prince 
Albert's  mausoleum,  318. 

Worcester  :  history  of,  88 ;  cathe- 
dral, 88  et  scq. ;  bell  and  clock-chimes, 
landscapes,  90  et  scq. ;  St.  Andrew's 
Church,  91  ;  potteries,  91  et  seq.  ;  ca- 
thedral service  attended,  92. 

Worship  :  origin  of  houses  of  Chris- 
tian, 260 ;  cathedrals  and  minsters, 
cause  of  their  erection,  266  et  seq.; 
progress  made  and  making,  269. 

Woodisridge,  Benjamin,  first  gradu- 
ate of  Harvard  College,  124  et  seq. 


York:  city  of,  254;  history  of,  254  et 
seq. ;  distinguished  personages,  255 
et  seq. ;  St.  Mary's  Abbey,  ruins  of, 
257  et  scq.;  relics,  258;  York  Min- 
ster, 259  et  scq. ;  archbishopric  of,  261 
et  seq.;  interesting  relics,  263;  Min- 
ster's history,  26S  et  seq. 

Yorkshire,  253. 


AA    OOP  851  766    6 


